Fire
by Fae Faythe
Summary: For her entire life, she's tried to remain unseen. All she wants is to do her job: Keep Jack safe. But when Jack Frost goes missing, she's got to break her unnoticed streak to find him. But who is she, and why does she care so much for Jack Frost?
1. Chapter 1

I don't have a name. I don't want a name. I don't _need_ a name. But I have a purpose.

And _it_, however, does have a name. Jack Frost.

* * *

I always wait a few days, make sure that Jack is well on his way out of town before I move in. Winter and ice is fun for a few days, but then it begins to get hazardous. Accidents happen on icy roads, too many kids running wild in the streets becomes dangerous. If Jack had his way, it would never melt. I make my way over the streets, the tips of my fingers and my palm glowing red-hot as I float over the ice and snow on a warm breeze. It's April, for Christ's sake. It's not the time for snow days. Easter is soon. Which reminds me, I need to go faster. There's nothing Jack likes better than to make a mess of Easter. Something to do with pissing off Bunnymund. I roll my eyes at the thought. So childish. But, then again, I've come to expect it after more than three-hundred years.

By the time I'm done cleaning up the town, ridding it of ice and unwanted snow, it's well past midnight and I'm exhausted.

"Wind," I call tiredly to the open air, "take me home." I jump and the wind does the rest, the beginnings of an early summer storm taking me back to where I woke up for the first time. The cave about a spring. It's warm there, constantly heated by the steam the comes from the spring. I swirl my fingers and float on my back, supported by the steam and the spring air combined. Even though every hint of cold air has been banished from this place, I shiver. I can't stand the cold. It makes me sick, diminishes my powers. A bit unfortunate for what I've chosen to do for the past three centuries, but I'm coping. I don't have to be the strongest, just strong enough to fix Jack's messes. I don't care about the rest of it. Having power, I mean. Everyone like me – everyone...mythical – is so concerned with power. Power, recognition, _something_. Not me. I just want to keep Jack safe. I can feel the moon's light shining on my face and turn towards it.

"Goodnight, old friend," I murmur. Closing my eyes, I feel my body temperature begin to rise as my hair fans out, the air playing with it, and lights itself on fire. I don't shiver anymore.

"Keep him safe, will you?" "Keep him safe." "Look out for Jack." "He's _your_ responsibility." The words whirl in my mind, mocking me in sharp, ugly voices. I open my eyes but there is nothing to look at. "And look how well you've done with that." I shake my head, willing the voices, the doubts, away, but they insist, staying, tormenting me. The nothingness turns dark and then a new voice takes its turn, a more sinister voice, one that sends chills down my spine.

"All you ever wanted was to take care of him." I spin, but I can't locate the source of the voice. "So noble of you, making yourself sicker and sicker every day, just to keep him safe." A black figure emerges from the shadows. I take a step back, but then he's behind me. I whirl to face him, and he vanishes once more. Growling, already-smoldering hair ignites and my hands burst into flames.

"Quit screwing around!" I command. "Show yourself!"

"What a lovely demonstration," the figure appears again, this time seeming solid, instead of shadow. "But we both know that's what it really is. A demonstration. No one _believes _in you, my dear. In fact, I'm the only one who even knows that you exist. And that's only because of your fear. Such fear." He sounds pleased.

"I'm not afraid." I insist, ignoring the fact that my fingertips are already beginning to go out.

"Not of me, no," the figure agrees. "But you have so much _more_ to fear. It's...delicious."

"Bite me." I growl. "What do I care if no one knows me. I don't know you, either, Slim Shady." For the first time, the figure looks affronted.

"You, nameless one, may call me Pitch. Pitch Black."

I roll my eyes. "The Boogeyman. I hate to tell you this, friend, but no one believes in you either. 'Don't be afraid of the dark' is pretty much a standard household phrase. So you're as full of it as I am." But one thing is bothering me. "How can you see me?" I ask. Not even other mythos, or fairytale creatures, or bedtime stories, whatever you want to call them, can see me. Not unless I want them too, which is never.

"Fear," Pitch replies, steepling his long, pale fingers, "makes you visible to me alone."

"Fabulous." I mutter, shaking my head. "The Boogeyman can see me."

"Ah, I know where I am unwanted." Pitch says, bowing his head. "Terrible nightmares to you, nameless one."

"Sweet dreams right back at ya," I say, my voice dripping with sarcasm. Pitch smiles, waves his hand and I open my eyes again, back in the cave. Back home.

And it's noon.

"Bugger." I curse under my breath and shoot out of the cave, riding on a warm breeze. Flying, I decided a long time ago, is the best part of being me. I love it. Truly, I do. There's nothing more liberating then feeling the wind tearing through your – albeit flaming – hair and seeing the landscapes below you look like miniature models. It's wonderful.

But even that wonder can't keep the memory of the dream from turning my mouth down in the corners. I haven't dreamt in ages, but, then again, I know that is wasn't really a dream. However, the thought that only one who has been able to see me in three-hundred years is the Boogeyman doesn't exactly settle my nerves. I _like_ being unknown, I _like _being unseen. No one bothers me, I don't bother them...I have a system, and it has been working out pretty well so far.

It doesn't take me long to find another place that Jack has turned into his own wintry playground. But this time, he's still there. I freeze, almost literally among all this ice, and make sure that I'm completely invisible, to humans and mythos alike. I crouch down behind a statue, watching Jack instigating a snowball fight between a bunch of the kids in the town, playing around like he's a part of the fun. I feel a pang of sadness, watching him. He knows that they don't see him. But he insists on doing this to himself. And never, not once, have I ever understood why.

I also realize with an unpleasant jolt that I haven't actually seen Jack in almost fifty years. I keep behind, trying to warm everything warm from a distance, but to actually _be _here...

I'm so lost in my own thoughts that I don't see one of the children barreling towards me, and don't have enough time to move before she passes through my chest.

"Wow!" she exclaims. "Guys, come over here! It's so warm!"

"Hey!" Jack protest. "Are you forgetting all the fun we just had? Who needs it to be warm?" But the children have already lost interest in their snow-day fun.

"I'm sorry," I whisper, taking off into the air. I hadn't meant for that to happen. I didn't want to take away from him. As I go, the snow and ice in the town seem to melt of their own accord, and I realize that my palms are glowing more brightly than they ever have before – and without my volition. The tips of my fingers and sparking with lightning and my hair has already caught fire. I spin in the air, bewildered. What is going _on? _I bring my hands to my face, feeling the tingle of the lightning as it arcs between my fingers. Lightning? That's new.

Fast as I can, I fly home, trying to control the sparks flying from my hands and my hair. I feel...odd. As if there's something new inside of me, something I've never felt before. I don't like it. I don't like change and I don't like anything new.

"Pitch!" I shout into the open air! "What did you do to me?"

"Me?" The sly reply comes almost immediately and I jump. I don't know what I had been expecting, but it wasn't Pitch appearing so quickly. "I have done nothing."

"You did this." I repeat, waving my sparking hands in his face. I look down at my reflection in the hot spring and the reflection that stares back at me is unfamiliar. There's something dangerous and volatile in her dark, violet eyes; sparks and fire dance through her fiery, sunset-red hair, casting shadows on her cheeks, making her face look sharp and severe. The only thing familiar is what she wears: black pants and a black shirt, with a leather jacket with flaming designs on the collar, sleeves, and hem. The boots on her feet are emblazoned with the same designs. I turn, and the spirit turns with me.

"I have done nothing," Pitch insists.

"Everything was fine yesterday," I go on. "And then _you _showed up."

"I know about you. I believe in you. Do you really not know?" I glare and Pitch laughs. "I see. Knowledge is power, nameless one. I know of you, I believe in your power, and so it grows."

"I don't want it." For the first time, the King of Nightmares looks confused.

"You're telling the truth."

"No kidding." I mock. "I don't want power, I don't want belief, I want to be left alone, thank you very much." Pitch opens his mouth to reply but I cut him off. "Goodbye." I don't wait for him to vanish, but blast into the air on my own, flying faster than I ever have before. The lightning sparks, but it isn't too difficult to control. Below me, the earth warms as I fly above it, and flowers bloom if I fly too close. Odd. I ignore it, though. I have to find Jack. I check his usual sulking places, old haunts, and even the frozen pond where...he woke up, but he's not anywhere. I finally land and the wind dies down. He's gone. I can't find him.

For the first time in three centuries, I can't find him.

"Jack...where are you?" I whisper to the empty air. I can't believe that I've lost him. I've never lost him before, not ever. Not once. I can't lose him. I can't. He's my responsibility.

He's my brother.


	2. Chapter 2

Mama was always sick, back when we were human. Sick and fragile. She knew that she was dying, and so did we. Jackson and I. That was his name, then. One day, Jack was playing outside, probably stealing honey from a bear or something equally as foolhardy, and my mother called me into her room.

"Please," she said, her voice frail and breathy. "Take care of your brother when I'm gone."

"Mama, don't talk like that." I said, my own voice shaking. "You're not going to die." I was so young, and the words sounded hollow even to my ears.

"Sweetheart, please. Your brother is foolish and likes to get himself into trouble. You have to look after him."

"But...he won't listen to me." He never did. My father was the only one who could really control my little brother – though not much younger. Not much at all. Only about eight minutes. We're twins. But our Da wasn't a good man. He left often and for long periods of time, and when he came home, he was always drunk and spent his time looking for inadequacies that he could punish us for. It didn't take much. We were beaten more often than not and Mama couldn't do anything about it because she was too sick.

"He already does listen to you," Mama insisted. She took my hand. "He's your brother. And he looks up to you more than you realize."

That was the last time we spoke before she died. And Da came home to stay.

* * *

I open my eyes, and a sigh of relief. It was a dream. A memory, more like. But still, not real. I hadn't even realized that I had fallen asleep. I rise into the air, before the recollection of the day before crashes down on me. Jack. I lost him.

"Shit." I swear, kicking the ground. An angry burn mark appears where my boot grazed the grass. That's different. I growl. After the day I just had, different shouldn't be such a surprise anymore. Pitch. Fire lights itself in my hair at the thought of the stupid Boogeyman who started all of this. If I ever see him again, that shadowy ass of his is going to burn.

But before that, I've got a bigger problem. I've always wondered what might happen if Jack got loose without me to fix his messes, and the image I always come to is slightly akin to the ice age. Not good for the likes of humanity. Or me, for that matter. There's only one way I can fix this. And it scares me.

I breathe deeply and let go. Release the anonymity that I've fashioned as a shield to keep myself invisible and unnoticed. I look at my hand and it no longer looks wraith-like in the morning light, the edges disappearing when I look away. I am solid. I am seen. Or, at least, more than I ever have been. And now that the mythos can see me, I've got to make a stop.

"Wind," I whisper, rising into the air. "I'm Scotland-bound." I fly quickly, not wanting to waste any time, but not fast enough not to notice the looks on the mythos' faces when they see me streaking through the air, leaving a fiery tail like that of a comet in my wake. I don't like it at all. The leprechauns, the Little People, flock around me when I land in the middle of a grassy field in the middle of their country. I've been here plenty of times before, but, of course, they never saw me.

"Who are you?" The question comes for hundreds of tiny mouths in disjointed unison. Leprechauns, see, aren't how they've been described in human stories. They're tiny, yes, and mischievous, but beyond that, humans have got it all wrong. They're green, firstly. Completely, head-to-toe, pea green, even the whites of their overlarge eyes are tinged green. And they're pointy – all points and angles, with long, emaciated features and sharp noses, knees, and cheekbones. Their thin fingers are hooked and barbed, and they've got a mean set of teeth. But despite their, I'll admit it, terrifying appearance, leprechauns are actually quite helpful. If they decide that they like you, that is. Not at all like the Fair Folk, who are experts in lying without lying, and brokering deals hat are oftentimes more harmful than anything else. Leprechauns, for some reason or other, know _everything._ I often frequent Scotland when Jack has been less active to catch up on the latest gossip.

"Hi, uh," I falter, trying to think of a name, but drawing a blank. "Not important. I need some information." For a moment, the hoard stared at me, and I wasn't sure whether they'd decide to attack me or accept my very minimal "people skills." As if I should be so lucky.

"Intruder." The word starts quietly and within seconds all of the other take up the chant.

"No!" I protest, raising myself into the air to avoid sharp fingers clutching at me. "Quit it!" One of them jumps and I kick him out of the air. "I said _stop!_" Fire bursts from my palms, shooting out in both directions and my hair goes up like dry kindling, sending a pillar of flame skywards. Even when the fires die, lightning still arcs through the air and suddenly everything smells like ozone. "I am not an intruder and I am not an enemy. I need _help_!"

"Help?" one of the leprechauns says quietly, and the word spreads again. "How help?" I land, but keep the lightning crackling, just in case this new-found friendliness doesn't last.

_"I need to find someone," _I say, switching from English to something that might endear me to the Little People: Pictish, a language almost lost in time, and said to be one of the original Scottish dialects. I'm not fluent, but I know enough to get by.

_"Who?" _the leprechaun who had originally agreed to help me asks, stepping forward. I don't know if he's the leader, but he does seem to have a certain sway with the others.

_"Jack Frost." _I reply. I don't say that I'm his sister. I don't even like letting the leprechauns know that I _exist_, let alone that I have been around, undetected, for three-hundred years. Hopefully, they'll keep my secret. The leprechauns buzz and chatter among themselves at the name. I know Jack has been here – I've defrosted these hillsides more than once – and I'm not sure how they'll take it.

_"Why?"_

_"I lost him."_

_"Why?" _the leader insists

_"Because he's important to me." _It's a lame answer and I know that, but something about the desperation in my voice must trigger something in the Little People, because their leader nods.

_"Bunnymund and yetis came for Jack. Yesterday. Night."_

_"Where did they take him?"_

_"The Pole." _I groan. The Pole. Brilliant. Jack has been trying to break into there for years, and every time, I've had to get the yetis to keep him from pissing off North. And now he's finally done something big enough to get the attention of the Guardians. But, honestly, the thing that bothers me the most is that I don't know what he's done. I don't have a clue.

_"Thank you." _I say, floating into the air but one of the leprechauns grabs at my leg.

_"You come back. Yes? You are new. Come back." _I nod – lying – and speed away, burning through the air. The Pole. Of course, it had to be the goddam North Pole.

"Jack," I whisper, the wind snatching away my words as I fly. "What did you do?"

I've got a problem, I realize, too late. The North Pole isn't just a factory where North makes toys for children. It's not just a place where yetis and tiny, really creepy elves run around and the sleigh is kept. It's a fortress. Even if I hadn't been keeping Jack from getting inside, there's no way that he would be able to. Not only are there yetis, but North has powerful magic keeping intruders out. Which begs the question, how the hell am I going to get in? Especially if Bunnymund is there too?

As I fly, I begin to feel different. Same as yesterday, I feel odd and tingly, as if someone has injected me with pure adrenaline. Then it dawns on me: The leprechauns. They know about me now, they _believe_. They saw what I could do, and now they know. Which, according to Pitch, means that I'm going to get stronger. Helpful now, when I need the firepower to break into one of the most powerful mythos in the world's home, but later? I don't want to always have to worry about exploding when I get angry, because having an even temper was not a trait that I was graced with. I've always been a hothead, even as a human. Never did well with orders, or bullies. Meaning that my father and I? Yeah, we weren't friends. He was always bossing us – Jack and I – around, looking for flaws, imperfections. Trying to goad Jack into talking back because he knew that he could beat him harder than he could me. More often than not, though, I was the one who got hit.

"You call _that _clean?" he yelled one day. His breath was rank and acidic with alcohol. Jack had bitten his lip and put his head down, his overlong brown bangs covering the fury in his eyes. He used to have brown hair. We both did. "Look at me when I'm talking to you, boy!" Da grabbed Jack by the chin and forced him to look into his eyes. Even from across the room, I could tell that Jack was about to snap.

"It's cleaner than you are." I mumble, loud enough for him to hear me.

"What did you just say to me?" Da released Jack and stared at me.

"I'm sorry, did you not hear?" I replied calmly, glaring at him with defiant eyes. "I said that the floor is cleaner than you are, you slovenly pig." Years later, millenia later, I still remember that beating.

I am wrenched back into the present by the sudden drop in temperature. I've made it.

Now how am I going to get in? I smile as an idea takes hold. Yeah, that ought to work. I light my hands and fly forward, ignoring the tingle of magic that tells me that the security yetis know that I'm here. As I fly through the town that lays at the foot of the fortress, things start to catch fire. Slowly at first, but then it spreads. The inferno begins to consume everything and I stop flying and land, walking calmly through the chaos. I tip my head upwards, and lightning strikes, though the sky is cloudless and crystal-blue. Elves run out of the houses in droves, but it's not them I'm worried about. It's the yetis.

They burst out of the walls of the factory, hundreds of them, a wave of massive, furry bodies. One of them grabs me and I don't struggle. With the amount of damage I just caused, they're taking me right to the big man himself. Perfect.

Although, now that I think about it, I don't really want an audience with Nick St. North. As the yetis drag me forward, I begin to heat up. Slowly at first, so that they don't notice right away and knock me out, but in degrees. As soon as we're inside, though, I really turn up the heat. The two yetis that hold me yelp and let go for just a moment, just long enough for me to shoot into the air.

"Thanks for the way in, fellas," I say cheerfully, saluting the yetis before taking off. Jack's got to be around here somewhere. I feel a sudden chill – even stronger than the one that seems to have permeated the building and is making me slightly nauseous, and shoot towards it. Jack. I try to make myself as cold as possible as I fly into the room and perch myself behind a giant, glowing globe. Jack isn't here and neither is North...but the Sandman, Toothiana and Bunnymund all are. The big four, all together...because of Jack? It doesn't make sense. There has to be some other explanation.

"We don't need him," Bunnymund is insisting below me.

"But Pitch..." Toothiana hedges, fluttering anxiously. The Sandman doesn't say much. Nothing, really, but little sandy pictures appear over his head. Pitch? The Boogeyman? What does he have to do with any of this? And if he's causing trouble and appeared to me all within forty-eight hours, it can't be a coincidence. I shoot upward when a boomerang flies towards my head.

"Rabbit ears," Bunnymund says, gesturing.

"Unkind," I tsk. "Who taught you how to receive guests?" Yetis must have the most uncanny timing, because they decide burst in, yelling in their gravelly language.

"She set the village on fire?" Toothiana gasps, putting a hand over her mouth.

"You can understand them?" I answer a question with a question. Bunnymund hurls another boomerang at me and this one I set on fire in midair. "Would you stop that, you overgrown stuffed animal?"

"What did she just call me?"

"Oversized. Stuffed. Animal." I repeat myself, slowly, as if to a child. Jack may have the right idea about this guy after all. "And the fire's out. No harm no foul." I am so screwed. For all my bravado, there's very little chance I'm flying out of here unscathed. But, _damn_, really? Did all of them have to be in one place the _one day _I needed to break in?

"Who is this?" I turn. North. With Jack. And he's looking at me.

Long time, no see, little brother.


	3. Chapter 3

Before I have the chance to answer, Bunnymund throws something else at me – an egg. Instinctively, I vanish, and it passes right through me before exploding. An egg bomb. Nice.

"Will you stop that!" I shout, reappearing.

"We could not see you," North says in his funny accent. "Why? What is your name?"

"Because I didn't want you to and don't have one."

"Whoa, whoa, whoa, who is this girl?" Jack asks. "I've been trying to break into this place for years!" One of the yetis growls at him and I laugh.

"Aren't you supposed to be the tricky one?" Jack looks at me and grins. I can't help myself – I smile too. It's been so long since he's seen me. It's been too long.

"Says the girl without a name."

"Are we just going to ignore the fact that she burned down your village, North?" Bunnymund presses. The Sandman tries to add in, but he's throwing up so many sand symbols so fast that no one can decipher them.

"She burned...?" North trails off, looking bereft.

"Sorry," I say quickly. "I needed to get your attention."

"But you can turn invisible, even to us," Toothiana pipes in. "Why not just come in unseen?"

"Tooth, why are you giving her ideas?" Bunnymund interjects. I glare at him, my hair catching at the tips. The rooms smells of ozone.

"Because of the magic," Jack and I say at the same time. I look at him quickly before continuing. "And seriously, Fluffy, are we going to have problems? I just needed to cause enough damage for the yetis to drag me in here, and then I got away from them."

"How?" the Tooth-Fairy asks, just as North says, "Why?" I shake my head. Too many questions, too few experiences dealing with people. And so many people at the same time. I don't like this. I turn to Jack.

"Are you okay?" He blinks at me, probably a little freaked out by the sudden intensity in my voice. I just want to get out of here.

"Um, yeah. Fine."

"He's going to be a Guardian!" Toothiana said delightedly, and the fairies buzzing around her seem to get even more excited. I have to restrain myself from laughing at that, but manage.

"Fantastic." I mutter. "But you're okay?"

"I'm fine – but why do you care?" I don't answer that, I just disappear. Partly because I don't want them to see me anymore, but mostly because that hurts. A lot.

"I care because I'm your sister," I whisper, but none of them can hear me. My power might be amped, but I've got nothing on the rest of them. Which, right now, is a huge advantage. Sometimes, it's easier to stay invisible. But I don't leave. I can't. He's _seen _me.

God, this was a bad idea. I'd forgotten how much I miss talking to him. He's my twin and we were best friends, back when we were both properly alive. He had my back and I had his. Not to mention that I saved his ass more times than I can count. Then _and_ now.

"What the – " Bunnymund says. "Where'd she go? Oi, hothead? Where are you?" Hothead? Really? That's unoriginal. I expected more from the rabbit with inked fur.

"Who was she?" Jack asks aloud.

"I'm your sister." I reply.

"I don't know," Toothiana says, but Jack can hear her. "But it seemed like she knew you, Jack."

"She set my village on fire!" North bursts out, still sounding upset. That's it. I don't want to hear any more bickering about me anymore. At least I didn't explode in front of them – I don't need any more power, and something tells me that the big four believing in me would be one hell of a power-up.

This was stupid of me. Of course Jack is okay, he's always okay. He doesn't need me anymore – especially now that he's got them. But even as I think it, the thought weighs me down, like an anchor on my heart. I take to the air and fly out of an open window, eager to be out of the cold.

"Bad idea." I murmur to myself, landing back at home. "So stupid."

"Confronting your fears is never stupid, my dear."

"Pitch!" I say angrily, whirling on him. But, of course, he's not there. "Would you stop screwing around?"

"Of course," he continues like I haven't spoken, "oftentimes, facing your fears leads to even bigger ones coming to light." I keep turning, but every time I think that I might see him, Pitch dissolves, his laughter echoing in the cavern. Finally, I decide to take matters into my own, very bright, hands. I close my eyes and feel my skin grow hotter and hotter. Light leaks from my eyes, hair, and hands, leaving no corner of the cave unlit. "And speaking of light..." Pitch finally appears, laughing. "You are turning into quite the force to be reckoned with."

"I don't want this. I want you to leave me alone. Why are you so interested in me anyway?"

"You're different...you've got such potential for power, and yet, you want none of it. Everything you do is for your brother. You purposefully make yourself sick so that you can keep him safe, and he doesn't know. He doesn't even remember you."

"Shut up." I growl. "You don't have any right – "

"Right?" Pitch repeats. "Of course I have the right, I'm the Boogeyman! I know everyone's worst nightmares. Now what kind of monster would I be if I didn't act on them every once in a while."

"I would very much like to strangle you."

"Can't strangle a shadow, love." Pitch says before he frowns a little. "And it occurs to me that we are going to have to come up with a name for you at _some _point. These pet names are in short supply, you know."

"'We' will not be doing anything. Besides, don't you have some toddler to scare, nightmare man?"

"There is no need to be callous," Pitch says. He seems to look beyond me for a moment before something slips from behind me and cozies up to him. An enormous horse with glowing yellow eyes, made out of something similar to the Sandman's dream sand, but this stuff is black. Nightmare sand, maybe? "Hello, darling, what is it?" he coos, rubbing the nightmare's nose. The black, ethereal horse nickers, but it sounds more like a scream to me, and Pitch nods.

"Ah, I see." Pitch turns back to me. "I know you miss me when I'm gone, but I must go, nameless one. Until next time. Ta."

"Prick." I snap at him, but Pitch is already gone. "Ugh," I groan to myself, folding my legs and floating a few inches above the ground. I hold my head in my hands. This is just so _frustrating_!

And painful. Because, see, the thing about loneliness is that after a few hundred years of being alone, you begin to get used to it. The sharp ache that always came with watching people go about their lives, the horrible feeling of emptiness you got when they walked through you...it begins to dull. Fade away, until you barely notice it anymore. But now that someone has seen me – and not just any someone but my little brother...well, the pain comes rushing back. It hurts. A lot.

I'm so wrapped up in myself that I don't notice someone else entering the cave. Someone small.

"Ow!" I shout, shooting upwards and slapping my arm. Something stabbed me! At first I don't see what did it, it's flying around too fast, but once it slows down, I see that it's one of Toothiana's little miniatures. I go still, but she – they're all females – buzzes around me, flitting beside my head and chattering in my ear. She can _see _me.

"What are you?" I ask it. "Some kind of baby-tooth?" The fairy stops for a moment and almost seems to glare at me, before zipping back and forth between the mouth of the cave and where I'm sitting. She tugs at my sleeve. "I'm not following you." I say firmly. "No." I insist, when the fairy flies back and forth again. Baby Tooth hovers in midair, looking at me desperately.

"Fine!" I agree, albeit reluctantly. "Where are we going?" The fairy, naturally, doesn't answer, but rockets away, and I have to fly as fast as I can to follow. I can guess our destination, the Tooth Palace, but it's nothing like I remember. I've been there a few times before and it's always a hive of activity, with fairies flying to and fro wildly, sometimes with teeth, sometimes with coins, but whatever they're doing, there is not a single creature within a mile radius standing still. Despite the frantic work, though, all of the fairies always seem so happy and I've always liked it there.

But there's nothing of that happiness now. Instead, the place is saturated with fear. Nightmares careen through the air, snapping up fairies and holding them prisoner. Baby-Tooth vanishes, off to help her sister or hide, I don't know which. I hear a wild shout and whirl, seeing North's sleigh weaving through the towers of the palace, with all of the Guardians inside.

Jack, too.

"They're after the fairies!" I vanish instinctively at Jack's voice and then roll my eyes. Way to observe, genius. My eyes track him as he leaps out of the sleigh and snatches one of the fairies right out of the mouth of a nightmare. I recognize her plumage – it's Baby Tooth. This must be where Pitch vanished to. What the hell is he up to. Almost all of the nightmares are gone, and they've taken the fairies with them. Only Baby Tooth remains, and she's left Jack and is buzzing around me, though I am invisible to the rest of them. She shrieks and I turn, seeing an abnormally large nightmare racing towards Jack.

"Jack!" I shout, materializing long enough to push him out of the way of the nightmare before vanishing again. It passes through me, painfully, but I manage.

"Ah, the big four, all together." Pitch.

"What did you do with them!" Toothiana shouts, flying towards his shadow, but Pitch just dissolves. I could've told her that that wasn't going to work. "Give me back the teeth! And return my fairies! They – "

"Oh, darling Toothiana." Pitch says silkily, cutting her off. "I don't want _them_, but how else was I going to get you all here?" He smiles and looks directly at me. "And how else was I to orchestrate such a novel little family reunion." At his words, all my anger, fear and pain leaps to the surface and I have to forcefully restrain myself from combusting.

"You have no power here, Pitch Black," North says.

"We took care of you in the dark ages." Bunnymund adds, but they're both wrong. If Pitch is right, and all of our power is based on belief, then...with the teeth missing. The Tooth-Fairy flutters a little before falling. It's becoming harder for her to fly, that much is obvious.

"And yet..." Pitch says, gesturing to Toothiana.

"They're – " she gasps. "They've stopped believing."

"All over the world, children are waking up, looking under their pillows, and realizing that the Tooth-Fairy doesn't exist."

"But she does exist!" Jack shouts, and I shout it with him, allowing myself to become visible for long enough to send a violent burst of blue lightning arcing towards Pitch. It won't shut him up, but maybe he'll leave me out of it.

"Damn, Sparky," Jack says, looking at me with a grin, "didn't know you could do that." I blink and vanish. Bad idea, but I'll just have to add it to the list of all of today's bad ideas.

"Speaking of things you don't know, Jack," Pitch says coolly and smiles at me again. "I think this would be a good time to introduce you to someone." This time, I don't burn hot with anger, but my blood freezes in my veins. Pitch looks at me, snaps his fingers, and I am visible. Completely visible. And I can't do anything about it.

"What did you do?" I scream at him. I can't disappear. He's done something. Pitch laughs, clapping his hands like a child at Christmas. Baby Tooth burrows into my jacket, shuddering fearfully.

"Fear, remember?" He turns to Jack and then looks back at me. "Jack Frost, I think it's high time that you met your big sister." Jack turns to me, his ice-blue eyes wide, and I can feel the eyes of the other Guardians as well. Pitch cackles before melting into a shadow. "I'll leave you to get acquainted."


	4. Chapter 4

"Pitch!" I shout, but he is gone, vanished into thin air. Lightning strikes down in my anger and I startle backwards from the explosion, still unused to the violent reactions to my emotions. "Oh shit." I swear softly, feeling the eyes of the Guardians and Jack's on me. Even Baby Tooth stares, her tiny, multicolored eyes wide.

"My _sister_?" Jack repeats, sounding dazed. "I have a sister? I had a family?" He's the only one preoccupied with that, though. The others glare at me like I'm a criminal, a threat.

"You know Pitch." Bunnymund says. Not a question, a condemnation. "Who the bloody hell are you?"

"I'm no-one." I reply, trying to keep my voice level. "I'm a nobody."

"Sandy," North murmurs. My eyes widen, and I know what's going to happen before it does. I shoot upwards without another thought, barely missing the end of a golden whip that appears in the Sandman's hands. For a such little guy, he's strong. And fast.

"Hey!" I protest, dodging left and right. "Stop!" I can't turn invisible. I don't know what Pitch did, or how long it's going to last, but is sure isn't ending when I need it. I've been around long enough to know that if one of Sandy's whips touches me, I'm out cold, and then there's no chance that I'll be able to slip back into anonymity. Hell, there's barely a chance now. I look to Jack, but he still looks dazed and distracted, as if he's unaware of what's happening. "I said, _stop_!" I shout, but it does no good. I'm growing tired and I know that I won't be able to keep this up much longer. I streamline my body, clasping my arms to my body and drop straight downwards, again missing the whips by mere inches. I almost land in a spring before I bounce on the wind and regain altitude.

"Jack!" I yell, and his eyes widen at the sound of his name coming from my mouth. "Dammit, Jack!" I speed over to him, energy collecting in my palms. I flick it towards him like I've seen him toss snowballs at children. The energy flashes pink, gold, and red as it bursts in his eyes, sparkling before it vanishes. "Remember!" I've spent too much time in one place and the Sandman's whip crashes down again. I don't have time to get out of the way and in my panic, my hands light themselves on fire. My hand flashes up and I catch the end of the whip before it can touch my unlit skin. Immediately, I feel slow and lethargic, but don't fall asleep yet. My magic must be counteracting Sandman's, but it's not enough, I can already tell. I feel myself slipping away.

As my eyes flutter to a close, I think that I hear Jack yell "Stop!" but I might already be dreaming.

* * *

"I must say, that went rather well." Pitch appears, laughing to himself. I recognize this place – it's where he first invaded my dreams, a shadowy dream-space that I can't seem to light completely no how much I burn. "Better than I expected."

"Pitch!" I hiss at him. "What do you _want_ from me, damn you?"

"Oh, you're just such fun," Pitch says, smiling gleefully. One of his nightmares nickers by his side, sounding as if it's laughing. "And I think that you and I could benefit greatly from one-another."

"You have nothing I want." I snap.

"Don't I?" Pitch says, waving a hand. A hole appears in the dream-space and through it I see the Guardians, all bent over my body, looking concerned. Jack is pacing, freezing the spring I am floating above as he walks.

"She is my sister." Jack whispers. "But I didn't _know._"

"We were all someone before we became Guardians," Tooth explains to him. "And the teeth that we collect act as vessels for us to store the best and brightest memories of childhood. When a child is in need, we'll take them back, help them remember." Toothiana flies up to a frieze on the cave wall that already seems to be crumbling and touches the peeling paint. "But they took all of them. Even yours, Jack."

"Mine?"

"His?" I repeat.

Pitch laughs. "Seems that I do have something that you want, after all." Pitch purrs. "You can't afford for him to get those memories back, now can you?"

"How do I even know that this is real?" I demand, gesturing to the scene, but it's been replaced by the amorphous black walls of the dream-space.

"Please," Pitch says, waving an impatient hand. "You're grasping at straws, love. You know it's real, just as I do." He tuts and his eyes flick upwards. "Ah, you're waking up. Until next time, nameless one. And do think about my proposal."

"What proposal," I ask desperately, but then I am awake. But no longer at the crumbling Tooth Palace. I'm in North's sleigh, which seems to be parked on a rooftop. Alone.

Thank God. Maybe _now_, finally, I can get away, wait until Pitch's curse wears off and then go back to doing what I do best: hiding and cleaning up after my little brother. I slip out of the sleigh, only to stop short, seeing the Sandman waiting for me. Apologetic symbols flash above his head, fast, but I still grasp the general meaning.

"It's okay, little guy," I say, smiling a little when I see Baby Tooth hovering above me. She looks happy that I'm awake. "Hi, Baby Tooth. How're you holding up?" The fairy chirps quietly, sadly. She's alone. I know the feeling.

The Sandman reaches for my hand and I flinch away. "Sorry," I say quickly. "Personal space issues." Sandy nods, understanding. He explains that the five of them – Jack included – are helping Toothiana collect the teeth. He beckons me forward, looking excited, but I shake my head.

"I – " I start, but then Jack appears, looking startled when he sees that I'm awake.

"Hey, sis," he says quietly. "How are you feeling?"  
"Fine," I reply, still wary. How much _does _he remember? "Are the other Guardians on-board with this, or are they still out to get me?" Sandy looks affronted and Jack smiles, but it's forced.

"I think you're okay," he says, sounding just as uncomfortable as I feel. " Look – " he starts, but a booming voice cuts him off.

"Ah, Sparks!" North says in his unusually loud voice. He claps me on the back and I nearly go flying off of the rooftop. 'Sparks?' I mouth to Jack. He rolls his eyes and shrugs. "You are awake!" North grins. "Come, we are collecting the teeth!"

"Uh..."I trail off awkwardly, not knowing what to say.

"I think what North means to say is that we're sorry for overreacting. You're just as much a victim of Pitch's madness as we are," Tooth says gently, her expressive violet eyes sincere. I notice that they're almost like mine, though my eyes are a much darker color. "They're helping me collect the teeth. It will buy us time until we find my fairies." Tooth smiles at Baby Tooth fluttering around my head. "Although I think she likes you quite a lot. She hasn't left either you or Jack since you passed out."

"Thanks, kid," I whisper to the fairy. She hums contentedly. "So you all believe me now?"

"Manny explained to us!" North says jovially. "And Tooth is right. We reacted badly and are sorry."

"If we help them with the teeth, we'll find our memories." Jack offers, sounding quietly hopeful. For the second time today, my blood runs cold.

"I have my memories." I reply. "Er, some of them."

"But you don't know your name." Jack insists. I nod. I didn't give him back his memories when I hit him with the energy that is similar to what he uses on kids to make them lighten up on snow-days, just made him remember me. Specifically me. I can't do it again, and I wouldn't, even if I wanted to. "Please." Jack looks like he's going to say more, but he's interrupted again.

"Look," Bunnymund says, hopping out of a hole in the roof that appears out of no-where. "This reunion is touching, but if we're going to get the teeth collected in time, we've got to move."

"Bunny is right." North agrees, bounding down a chimney and popping up through another one on the other side of the street. The magic in the air is tangible as Sandy makes a sand-plane to fly around in and Bunnymund taps his foot against the roof and hops down a hole that appears.

"Later?" Jack asks. I know what he's talking about. We need closure. Both of us. I nod and Jack flies away on a burst of cold air as Toothiana starts pointing to houses, exclaiming what kinds of teeth were under pillows. Somehow, though I never meant to be, I am swept up in the excitement and jet off as well, slipping in through a window that Tooth had pointed out. A little girl is sleeping inside. I quickly grab the tooth from under her pillow before I notice that the girl is shivering. My hand warms fractionally, only the tips of my fingers glowing gold, and I touch them to the little girl's forehead. Immediately, she stops shivering and I smile and tuck the covers up to her chin.

"This is always my favorite part." Tooth says, coming in the window after me. "Seeing the kids, I mean." I nod. I've done things like this before. Nothing big, nothing important, nothing like what the Guardians do, but people shouldn't be cold and miserable. I try to help when I can. Toothiana moves on, off to help another Guardian, I assume, and I quickly fly to the hall closet and grab a pillowcase. I drop the tooth into the makeshift bag, but a pale hand appears out of nowhere, catching the tooth before it lands.

"Hey," I say. "Give that back."

"Gotta be faster than that, big sister." Jack says, with a grin – the first genuine smile I've seen in a long time – and surfs a cold breeze out of the window. I laugh, and speed to catch up with him, snatching the tooth out of his hand when he tosses it into the air in victory.

"Come on, little brother," I say, taunting him with a grin. "Let's see what's faster – winter or summer?" I don't know what's gotten into me. I don't joke – I don't remember _how _to joke, and here I am, challenging Jack like I used to as if it's second-nature.

"Bring it on!" Jack crows, punching the air and then we race. Teeth begin to pile up and I'm glad I grabbed my pillowcase. Jack and I zigzag into and out of houses faster than I've ever flown before, stealing from one-another in kind. But it soon becomes clear that we're not the only ones in this race. North nearly sets a house on fire trying to get to a tooth down the chimney and I get swallowed up by Bunnymund's rabbit holes more than once.

"Hey, Sparks." Jack says, falling in line alongside me as I fly.

"Dear God, are we really going with that."

"It kind of stuck." Jack says, grinning. "And kind of fits."

"Awesome." I say, rolling my eyes and leaping to a window.  
"Aha!" Bunnymund exclaims, already at the house. I shoot sparks at him and he laughs, disappearing down his rabbit hole.

"Damn kangaroo." I grumble.

"I dunno," Jack says, leaning on his staff against the windowsill. "I think we could take him." We? Jack looks at me, smiling hopefully and I smile in return, a real, warm smile.

"Come on," I say, feeling myself getting warmer and warmer in preparation to fly as fast as I can. No more playing fair. If I'm going to run with these guys, I'm pulling out all the stops. Especially if I'm teaming up with Jack Frost, mischief king himself. "Let's show them what twins can do."

* * *

**Hi! Wow, I can't believe the amazing response I'm getting from this story. You guys are amazing, truly, and without you, I probably wouldn't be devoting so much time and effort into this. Note: I rewrote this chapter three times before I was happy with it. So please tell me what you think! You all are brilliant! Thank you!**

**~Fae**


	5. Chapter 5

Separately, Jack and I are forces to be reckoned with, but together, we are unbeatable. He's got my back and I've got his – when I fall through one of Bunny's traps, Jack is there to pull me back up and when North tries to smoke Jack out through the chimney, I send a warm wind to aerate the room in seconds.

"Hey Cottontail!" I taunt, following Bunnymund as he hops over the rooftops. "Let's race."

"You don't want to race a rabbit, sheila," he replies cockily and I grin.

"Then you've got nothing to worry about, do you?" I say. A challenge. Bunnymund snorts and picks up speed, diving down one of his holes, but Jack is waiting for him and seals off the exit to the tunnel with a laugh. I can hear Bunnymund cursing as Jack shoots up and out of the other side off the tunnel, icing that entrance over as well. I laugh gleefully, punching the air.

"You're a natural at this!" Jack shouts and I smile at the compliment, feeling lighter than I have in years. For the first time in as long as I can remember, I'm not worried, I'm not sick. I'm having _fun._

"Who do you think taught you everything that you know?" I reply, soaring through the cloudless sky.

"What, you?" Jack tosses back easily. "You're too responsible!"

"Well I let you take the reins when we were little," I explain, smiling at the memories. "You were always more trouble than me. But believe you me, we were quite the pair." Jack smiles, but it doesn't reach his eyes and I know that he wishes that he remembers.

"Sandy's on our tail," Jack warns me, and the wistful look in his eyes is gone, replaced by sparkling mischief.

"I've got this!" I say, swooping up and looping around so that I'm the one following him. Jack bobs and weaves around the rooftops, keeping Sandy's attention. I sneak up behind the golden bi-plane that the Sandman constructed for himself and touch the back wing, sending a single, tiny jolt of electricity through it. Apparently, dreams and electricity don't mix, because the plane begins to disappate. I whoop in triumph, flying straight through the dissolving plane. Sandy scrambles to make a new flying machine for a moment and in the single second that he falls through the air, I grab his gab of teeth before turning. I give the Sandman a salute.

"That's for knocking me out!" I cry. "Now we're even!" I speed away before Sandy can collect himself, leaving a glittering trail in my wake.

"Nice going!" Jack says, whistling when he sees my prize. "Whoa, Sparks, you're glowing." I turn, confused for a moment, before I look down at my hands and realize that he's right: My skin, a pale color to begin with, is sparkling in the moonlight, making it look like it's made out of diamonds. That's a new one. But then again, I haven't been this happy, this carefree, since...since I was human. That's probably got something to do with it. I don't mind, not really, not anymore. "Come on, Bunny got out." Jack grins and we streak off into the night. Together.

By midnight, all of the teeth have been collected and we meet up with Toothiana in New York. I've been around the world hundreds of thousands of times, but never like this.

"You did it!" Tooth chirrups, elated. "You collect teeth and leave presents at least as fast as my fairies – wait. You did leave gifts, didn't you?" Jack and I look at one another ad I raise an eyebrow. I didn't know that was a requirement. Color me inexperienced. Sandy nods enthusiastically and then shakes his head no.

"Who is ready for round two?" North offers.

"I'll be back," Jack says, vanishing off to get presents, I imagine. The others take off with Tooth, but I hesitate. I have nothing to give. Sandy tugs at my sleeve, a question mark hovering above his head.

"I don't have anything for the kids," I explain quietly. Lightning flashes above Sandy's head and he presses my hands together. I look at him strangely. The lightning flashes more insistently and he taps the backs of my hands. "I don't – " Sandy holds up a hand, cutting me off. I roll my eyes slightly at him and press my fingers together, charging them slightly. I feel the rush that I've come to associate with new magic and something compels me to increase the voltage, and I know intuitively when to stop. I open my hands slowly, unlacing my fingers one by one to reveal a small, shining jewel beneath.

"Wow," I murmur. The jewel is russet-colored and sparkles even under the pale moonlight. Sandy nods happily at me. "Thanks, little guy," Sandy smiles widely and wraps his short arms around my waist. I stiffen for a moment, hesitating, before I hug him back.

"Hugs?" Jack says, reappearing with a bag of coins over his shoulder. "Jeez, what did I miss?"

"I've got gifts." I reply, showing Jack the diamond.

"Seriously?" he pouts. "I get snowballs and you get fancy jewels."

"Looks like you got the short end of the stick, little brother," I tease. "In more ways then one: I am _way_ prettier than you." Jack's mouth drops open and I wink, leaping into the air.

"I am so pretty!" Jack calls after me and I laugh out loud, putting on a burst of speed. I race into houses, dropping stones under pillows almost faster than I can make them.

"Aha!" North booms when I come to a house that he's already claimed. I shoot sparks at him and North scrambles to keep the Christmas tree he's assembled from lighting on fire. I smile to myself and zip out of the house, moving on. There aren't any more suprises until I look in one window and see one of Bunnymund's rabbit holes opening up.

"Thanks, Fluffy!" I say cheerfully, using his head as a springboard and tucking one of my jewels under the sleeping child's pillow. Bunny scowls at me and vanishes again, grumbling under his breath.

Somewhere along the line I meet up with Jack and Tooth – back in the town where I accidentally stopped Jack's play-time with the kids. I remember now. It was the little boy, Jaime, who lost his tooth.

"An incisor," Tooth says. "Lost in a freak sledding accident. I wonder how that could've happened. Jack?"

"Kids," Jack says, looking at a picture Jaime tacked onto his wall, capturing the incredible sled ride. "It was weird, though," he says, thinking with a little frown on his face. "The snow started melting by itself, even while I was there." I cough nervously, fiddling with one of my stones.

"That..." I pander. "That was me."

"You?"

"I was too close, I melted the snow," I say sheepishly. "Sorry."

"Well I'm glad." Toothiana says. Jack and I both look at her questioningly. "If you hadn't melted the snow, maybe you two wouldn't have met." She touches both of our shoulders. "Thanks for being here. Both of you. I just wish I'd known about your memories sooner. I could've helped you."

"Yeah, well," Jack says. "Let's just get you taken care of. And then it's Pitch's turn." At the mention of Pitch, my mouth turns down in the corners. I haven't forgotten about his offer for me to join him.

"Ah!" North says, squeezing through the window with major difficulty. "There you are!" Sandy follows silently, zipping his lips when Tooth shushes the both of them, pointing to Jaime. "How are you feeling, Toothy?" North asks.

"Believed in!" Tooth says, smiling hopefully.

"Ah, good!" North says, clapping his enormous hands together. Bunnymund pops out of one of his holes, scowling as per the norm.

"Oh, I see how it is," he says, his ears twitching. "Working together to make sure the rabbit comes in last place." I roll my eyes and Toothiana shushes him persistently.

"Please," Jack and I say together. "Like we need help to beat a bunny." Jack hefts his bag over his shoulder and waves it in Bunny's face.

"You call that a bag of choppers?" Bunnymund scoffs. "This is a bag of choppers, mate." Bunny shakes his own, even bigger bag of teeth.

"Yeah?" I challenge, displaying my sack of teeth. It's bigger than Jack's and Bunny's combined and considerably heavier. I was strong, even as a human, especially for a girl of my age, but as a spirit, with my magical limitations, I've often had to rely on physical strength to get myself out of tough spots.

"Please, Jack, Sparks, Bunny," North says, stepping between the three of us. "This is about Tooth. It is not competition. But if it were, I win!" North chortles, dropping his enormous bag of teeth between us. He laughs heartily until the pale beam of a flashlight shines on his face and he freezes. The boy, Jaime, is awake. And he _sees _us. I make a strangled noise and instinct takes over. I look down at my hands, seeing how they shimmer at the edges, even to myself. I'm invisible.

Oh, thank God.

"Oh no." North mutters.

Jaime gasps. "Santa Claus. The Easter Bunny. The Sandman!" Jaime points his flashlight at each Guardian in turn. "The Tooth Fairy! I knew you'd come!"

"Surprise!" Toothiana says, improvising. "We came!" She laughs nervously.

"He can see us?" Jack asks, his face vulnerable for a moment, hopeful.

"Most of us," Bunny reminds him. Jack's face falls and he looks towards me, his blue eyes widening when he sees that I'm not there.

"Still here, little brother," I say, reappearing. I squeeze his hand without thinking. "I'm still here." Jack nods and doesn't pull his hand away.

"Uh, guys," Tooth reminds us. "He's still awake."

"Sandy, knock him out." Bunny suggests. Sandy nods and smacks his fist into his palm.

"Huh?" Jaime says, looking concerned for a moment. I snicker and Tooth gives me a look.

"With the dream sand, you gumby!" Bunny says, rolling his eyes. They fly back open when a greyhound leaps out of nowhere, growling in Bunnymund's face.

"No, that's the Easter Bunny!" Jaime says, but his dog doesn't back down. "What are you doing, Abbey, down!"

"Alright..." Bunny hedges. "Nobody panic." Jack and I look at each-other and I can't help but laugh this time.

"That's a greyhound, Fluffy," I say helpfully, snorting. This is just too good. Bunny's ears have gone flat against his head and his fur is standing on end.

"Do you know what greyhounds _do _to rabbits?"

"Well it's a pretty safe bet that he's never met a rabbit like me," Bunny says, all false bravado. Sandman tosses a ball of glowing dream sand up and down in the air, looking ever-so patronizing. I knew I liked him. "Six-foot-one, nerves of steel, master of tai chi..." I elbow Jack and point to the alarm clock on Jaime's dresser. He grins at me and taps the clock with his staff, making it shriek. At the noise, the dog lunges. "Crikey!" Bunny curses, bouncing off of the walls. Jaime tries desperately to get his greyhound under control and somewhere in the choas, Sandy loses the ball of dream sand. It flies through the air, hitting Tooth, who lands on the ground, sound asleep, with golden teeth dancing above her head. "Get this dingo off me!" Bunny says, panicking, before he gets hit too. The greyhound falls asleep as well, and the ball rebounds, hitting North.

"Candy canes," North mumbles sleepily. I see the golden ball heading towards me and vanish. The ball passes through my chest and dissipates. I stagger backwards, feeling like I've been shot by a cannonball. Ow. North lands on Jaime's bed and the boy goes flying through the air, landing in Sandy's arms. The Sandman nods his head and Jaime passes out.

"Whoops," Jack says, chuckling. "Oh, I wish I had a camera right now," he says. He looks to where I am, still invisible and in pain. "Sparks?"

"Here." I say. "Damn, Sandy, those things pack one hell of a punch." Sandy looks to me, concerned.

"Did you get hit?" Jack asks.

"Yes." I mutter. "It went through me. Not fun, but I'll manage." Jack bites his lip, clearly wondering whether or not to press the issue. He knows better than anyone what it feels like not to be seen. It's painful.

"Are you – " Jack's question is cut off by a hair-raising whinny from the window. I whirl, catching a glimpse of one of Pitch's nightmares before it darts out of sight. Jack hops to the windowsill, looking eager.

"Sparks, Sandy, come on!" he urges us. "We can find Pitch!" I don't want to find Pitch, but Jack is already gone. Sandy and I look at one-another nervously before following. Sandy motions to me, suggesting that I become invisible. For a tiny little guy, he's damn perceptive. I nod, vanishing and we both follow Jack.

Jack laughs gleefully as he surfs wind after the nightmare. I follow closely behind. But the nightmare isn't the only one flying through the night and Sandy motions me after Jack, while he goes to round up the others. Despite the fact that I'm there to protect him, I can't help but worry. Pitch is powerful and smart. But I don't care about that. Whatever Pitch is doing, whatever his plan is, he's sorely mistaken if he thinks that he's going to rope Jack into it.

Jack closes in on the nightmare, shooting an icy blast at it. "I got it!" he shouts., landing on a building's roof. "Sandy! Sparks, did you see that?"

"Frost." Pitch says, appearing out of the shadows. Jack spins and points his staff at him, but Pitch is gone in a second, reappearing in another dark corner of the rooftop. "For a neutral part, you're spending an awful lot of time with those weirdos." Pitch shakes his head. "This isn't your fight, Jack."

"You made it my fight when you stole those teeth." Jack snaps.

"Teeth?" Pitch repeats innocently. "What would you want with teeth?" I growl wordlessly. He knows what. Bastard. But before I have the chance to reappear and beat the nightmare sand out of him, Pitch jumps. Sandy stands but a foot away, glowing, with his short arms crossed. "Now this is who I'm looking for." Pitch says, almost sounding like he expected Sandy to come. I don't like that.

But the Sandman doesn't need anyone's help. In an instant, his golden whips are in hand and he attacks. Pitch dodges at first before striking back with an enormous black scythe made out of his black dream dust, but Sandy is clearly the better fighter here. In no time his whips are wrapped around Pitch's chest, slamming him into the buildings on each side of the street and finally sending the Boogeyman flying down onto the pavement below.

"Remind me not to get on your bad side." Jack says, impressed. Sandy smiles at him.

"Okay, easy," Pitch says, backing away. "You can't blame me for trying, Sandy. You don't know what it's like to be weak and hated." I look down on my transparent hands. I do. I know how that feels. And so does Jack. "It was stupid of me to mess with your dreams," Pitch continues. "So, I'll tell you what." The night suddenly feels darker and Pitch smiles cruelly. "You can have them back." A nightmare's scream rips through the air, making my hair stand on end and nightmares seem to explode out of everywhere: the sewers, the air. They're endless.

"You take the ones on the left, I'll take the ones on the right?" Jack suggests, twirling his staff, a habit he's picked up to mask fear.

"Don't count me out," I say, appearing between them. "I don't think that these guys like light too much. And that happens to be my specialty."

Pitch cackles, riding a nightmare steed. "Ah, Sparks, so glad that you could join us. Have you given any thought to my proposal?" he asks. "And I do love the new name, by the way. It suits you."

"Bite me." I growl at him, my hands and hair lighting.

"I'll leave that to my darlings." Pitch replies. "Boo," he says and the ethereal black horses charge. Sandy shoots into the air, taking half of the nightmares with him and Jack and I stand back to back. I look at him and he meets my eyes, and in that moment, I know that we're thinking the same thing: Bring it on.

* * *

**Hi, Fae here. As an author, especially a fanfiction author, it's always very, very ****_very _****stressful trying to keep the characters in-character. So, I'd like to know what you guys think about my characterization. How does Sparks fit in with the Guardians dynamic? Am I keeping the characters true to their movie counterparts? Anything you'd like to say or critique. Please leave me a review, I love hearing from you guys and getting constructive feedback is always amazing and appreciated!**


	6. Chapter 6

Jack's staff glows with magic, and I'm practically melting the pavement where I stand, but I know that we can't take the nightmares on the ground. There are too many of them. North's sleigh flies overhead, crashing through the air. North, Bunny and Tooth are still asleep. Unhelpful.

"Up we go," I say, grabbing Jack's hand and rocketing skywards.

"What are you doing?" he shouts, his voice nearly torn away by the wind.

"Fight!" I cry, letting him go and blasting after Pitch. Jack can take care of himself and by now, the other Guardians are away and have joined the fray. Took them long enough, I think to myself. I burn my way through the nightmares, watching them disintegrate as soon I fly through them. My skin is hot to the touch and instead of the trail of snowflakes Jack leaves behind him, I leave heat-waves that distort the air. "Pitch!" I shout, knowing that he can hear me. That he's surrounded himself by the nightmares, a massive, terrifying fortress of fear.

"Oh but why are you looking for me?" Pitch says, appearing beside me on his dark steed. "When its your brother who needs your attention?" My eyes go wide and I turn wildly. Pitch waves a hand and a nightmare dives at Jack, knocking his staff out of his hands. Jack tumbles through the sky, his hands scrabbling for his staff, but it's too far away. "Me or him?" Pitch asks innocently.

"Not even a choice." I snarl, flying away as fast as I can. Pitch laughs and suddenly I am surrounded by nightmares, so thick in number that I can't fight my way through. Heat, I think desperately. I need heat. No. Not heat.

Light.

I close my eyes and let the fire go. I allow it to escape, in order for something else to take its place. Something foreign, not born of anger, but of desperation. My eyes flash open again and I am glowing. Shining as if I am nothing but a vessel for the light within and it is leaking out of me in spades. Oh, hell yes. I dart forward, and this time the nightmares don't try to stop me. The _run _from me.

"Jack!" I yell, snatching his staff out of the air forcing it into his hand. "Dammit, why don't you keep a better grip on the one thing keeping you from falling? Sound like a plan, baby brother?"

"I'll keep that in mind for next time – " Jack says before another nightmare dives at us. He shoves me away and the nightmare collides with him. I dive forward, stopping short when I see that he's landed on North's sleigh.

"Oops." Pitch says, smirking at me from within his whirlwind of black sand. "Did I do that?" I grit my teeth and rush him, screaming with frustration when the dark horses circle me, attacking so fiercely that I can't break free. "Poor, poor Sparks," Pitch tuts, shaking his head from above me. "Too weak, to unbelieved in, to save anyone. You're no good to them, you know," he says. "And they're doomed anyway." He looks away from me, drawing his arm back as if he is pulling back a bowstring and a black, barbed arrow appears in the air. My eyes follow Pitch's gaze and I yell in alarm. Sandy is alone in the sky, his golden cloud overwhelmed by the nightmares. His whips flash through the air, keeping them at bay, but barely.

"No!" I scream as Pitch looses the shadowy arrow and it hits its target. Sandy starts forward a little, looking confused for a moment. I hear Jack's cry echo mine and he leaps into the air. I hear Pitch's triumphant laughter and I...I explode. There's no other word for it. Every fiber of my being burns with anger and hate and fire engulfs my body in its entirety. The nightmares that trap me are vaporized instantly, but it is too late. I'm too late. A black spot pulsates on Sandy's back, growing quickly, like a tumor.

"Don't fight the fear, little man!" Pitch taunts as Sandy falls to his knees. "I'd say 'sweet dreams,' but there aren't any left."

"No!" I say desperately, landing on the last of the golden cloud as Sandy is overtaken by the darkness. Only his head remains pure. "Sandy!" He looks at me with a sad, strong look, one last golden symbol floating above his head before it is overtaken: One of my diamonds. The nightmares retreat, their job finished, taking whats left of Sandy with them. I turn in the now-empty air, meeting Jack's eyes, his tortured expression mirroring mine. Then, in tandem, our eyes harden and we scream wordlessly, a battle cry of fury and misery. Pitch laughs at our anger, our hatred, spreading his arms, and a wave of black nightmare sand, not even formed into the horses, but just pure, raw fear, rises up behind him.

"Sparks!" Jack shouts, realizing at the same time as I do that we can't take it on. I reach for his hand and the wave hits, sending the both of us tumbling backwards through the air.

But we don't let go.

And something happens. I don't know what, but Jack begins to glow with the same icy magic that is usually confined to his staff. I manage to look down and see that I'm glowing too, but not just with light, nor with fire, but a sunset-colored combination of the two. Simultaneously, Jack and I throw our hands out, expelling all of the power forward, into the nightmare-wave. The darkness stops in its tracks, freezing and burning at the same time before it shatters and disintegrates, leaving the sky smelling of ozone and snow.

Jack begins to fall and I dive to catch him before setting him down on the sleigh.

"How did you _do _that?" Toothiana murmurs.

"I...I don't know." Jack mumbles. He looks to me for help but I turn away. I couldn't save him. I couldn't save Sandy.

"Dammit!" I curse, rising into the air almost unconsciously.

"Sparks, what are you doing?" North asks anxiously.

"I'm going after the son of a bitch who killed Sandy." I snarl, leaping into the air and letting with wind take me away.

* * *

I fly to where Pitch landed, every inch of me burning like a furnace, but he's not there anymore.

"Come find the Boogeyman," Pitch's voice taunts me, echoing through the night. "Come find the monster under your bed." I increase the light around me, searching. I roll my eyes when I see the old bed-frame with a hole beneath it. I slip between the planks of the frame and drop down into the tunnel. It opens out into a maze of shadowy caverns. I hear frantic chattering from above me and see the fairies rattling about in iron-wrought cages.

"Babies," I murmur, flying up to one of the cages. The fairies chirp weakly at me before all of them go silent, their multicolored eyes wide with fear.

"Ah, Sparks," Pitch says, patiently, his voice coming from the shadows – but they're everywhere. I leap to the ground, turning left and right, but he's nowhere to be seen. "I was wondering when you might show up. And, may I just say, you and your brother have _such _a knack for power. Impressive indeed."

"Don't talk to me about my brother." I snap. "And stop screwing around, Pitch. Show yourself!"

"I'm here, Sparks." Pitch says, appearing. "I'm always here. You and Jack, you're..._refreshing_, in this humdrum world. How nice it is to finally meet two individuals who appreciate fun as much as I do."

"I told you to leave him out of it!" I hiss. "And what you do isn't _fun_, you sadistic – " My words and oxygen are cut off as a shadowy tendril wraps itself around my throat.

"Now, now," Pitch says, shaking his head at me. "There's no need for harsh words Sparks. And don't even think about burning through that. You're going to listen to what I have to say. See, you don't want your brother to get his memories back, and I want the Guardians forgotten, lost to obscurity. I think that we can help one-another. Besides, you and I are more alike than you realize. What say you?" The dark vine loosens enough for me to open my mouth and speak. But I don't speak. My lips part and fire blasts from my throat. Pitch leaps back, his black-yellow eyes burning angrily.

"Idiot girl!" Pitch snarls.

"_That _was for Sandy," I snarl.

"Sandy?" Pitch repeats, blinking at me. His mood swings are beginning to give me whiplash. I thought that I was the girl here. "What has he ever done for you?"

"He believed in me!"

"_I _believed in you!" Pitch says earnestly. The vine releases me and I hover above the ground, too livid to stand on my own feet. "Don't you see? This power you have...being able to see your brother again, you must realize that it all started with me. I did it all for you, because we're the same." Pitch paces urgently and I can't fathom his sincerity, though I cannot detect any falseness in his words either. He means it. All of it. I don't understand.

Why does he care about me? I'm a no-one. I can't control my powers, they're wildly volatile and out of control. I want nothing more than to keep Jack safe, even if it means that he can't see me anymore. What could Pitch possibly see in me that would make him pursue a partnership? "We're both alone, we're both forgotten." Pitch continues. He puts a hand on my shoulder and I flinch. I still don't like being touched. "You know what will happen if Jack gets his memories back. And when he does, the Guardians will abandon you both. You know that they will, you _fear _that they will, and you're right."

"You don't know that." I mutter, but I hear a ring of truth in his words. I have been alive for so long. We both have. They - the Guardians - don't know what Jack and I have - have had to do. Jack doesn't even remember. But I do. I remember, I know, and they'd kill us if they found out.

"I've known them longer than you." Pitch says gently. "So much longer. They preach of light and love and forgiveness, but they'll never forgive what you've done. What Jack's done. But if we join together, the two of us, oh the things we could _do_!" Pitch vanishes again. "You could keep him, you know. Your brother. He'd be safe with us. Think about it, Sparks. I'll give you twenty-four hours to give me your answer." Pitch's voice echoes once more before I can't hear it any longer and all that is left is silence. Twenty-four hours. One day.

Twenty-four hours.

* * *

**Look at my darling Pitch causing problems. How I love writing him and Sparks. It's an interesting dynamic the likes of which I have never written before. So, my question for you, my lovely readers, this time is: What do you think of my rendition of Pitch Black? His relationship with Sparks? Hm?**

**Also, my apologies for the shortness of this chapter, but if it had gone longer, I don't think the effect would have been as pronounced.**

**~Fae**


	7. Chapter 7

When I make my way back to the Pole, a funeral is in session. Sandy's funeral. The Guardians stand, holding a candlelight vigil over a golden podium the bears Sandy's insignia. The elves bow their heads, the bells on their hats keening out a mournful song that's worse than any death march I've ever heard. For a moment I consider landing and paying my respects but I shake my head at the thought and fly on. I can't, I can't do that to Sandy. Not now, not when I just failed to save him. Not with Pitch's offer still echoing in my ears. I steel myself and fly to the highest peak of North's tower and sit there, allowing myself to be buffeted by the wind and the cold.

"I'm sorry," I whisper into the air. "I'm so sorry." I shouldn't care, not really. I barely knew the Sandman anyway, and I sleep so little that his good dreams never made their way into my head – and now, with Sandy gone, none ever will. And it's not as if he _said _much. He always just stayed quiet, hoarding his knowledge and only giving it out in stupid, cryptic little pictographs that could mean a million-and-one things. He never did anything for me. I shouldn't care. I don't care!

"Stupid, silent bastard!" I scream at the wind. Damn him! Damn him for believing in me and then dying. Damn him for leaving me with nothing but a message that I don't understand. Unconsciously, my body acting on auto-pilot, I make a diamond and fiddle with it. I don't even notice until Sandy's final message comes to mind. They're just jewels. They're sparkly, but useless. They don't mean anything – they have no _purpose._

A lot like me.

I yell out in blind frustration and hurl the damn useless think off of the roof.

"This is _your _fault." At first my eyes go wide and I think it's Jack's voice, his tone cruel and accusatory before I remember the last funeral I saw. A long, long time ago, back when I was human.

"This is your fault, girl," my father had growled at me then over my mother's casket. Jack was long gone by now. He'd taken one look at my mother, lying cold and dead in a wooden box and bolted for the woods, leaving me with my father. "_You_ didn't take care of her." I looked down, refusing to cry in front of him. "Look at me when I'm talking to you!" He grabbed my chin and forced me to look up at him. My eyes met his, burning even then, though they weren't violet but brown, and contained none of the fiery power I possess now.

"What do you want me to say?" I spat.

"Admit that she died because of _you_!" Da shouted at me, spit flying from his mouth. "You were too preoccupied with your brother to worry about your mother and now she's dead because of your negligence."

"No." I growled, my voice precariously close to breaking. "No."

But I knew that it was my fault that she died, even if I was too stubborn and injured to admit it. Now, with Sandy's death weighing on my shoulders, the guilt is compounded, doubled, and crippling. I look to the sky, stand, and turn my palms upward. Fires light themselves in the air, replacing the show and burning on their own. I pull back a little and the fires shrink until they're so small that they almost resemble the dream sand that Sandy always glowed with. The microscopic flames dance in the air for a moment before coming together. They sparkle and burn individually and it takes all of my concentration to keep them separated, still little granules of flame-sand. I take a deep breath and the tiny fires shape themselves into Sandy's image, complete with a little manta ray floating above his head, something I'd seen him make thousands of times. They shine there, among the snow and the icy wind for as long as I can maintain them, and then I release the power and the flames scatter and slowly go out, fading like fireworks. I exhale heavily and sit down again, tired. I may be stronger than I was, but even that little bit of magic is difficult. I'm useless without a volatile emotion to kick-start my abilities.

"It's beautiful, that." I jump a little at the unexpected voice.

"What do you want?" I snap miserably at Bunnymund. "If you're here to ask why I didn't get to Sandy in time, save your breath." I'm punishing myself enough for the both of us.

"It's not that." Bunny says, unceremoniously dropping a blanket onto my head. "I saw you fly up here. You don't do well with cold, do you, sheila?"

"No." I agree coldly. "But I'll deal, like I always do. I don't want your charity." I ball up the blanket and toss it back in his furry face.

"It's not charity," Bunnymund says. "You – you and Jack, I mean – you two...I've never seen anything like what you did. You especially."

"I didn't _do_ anything," I reply. "Sandy – "

"Believed in you." Bunnymund says, sitting down next to me. "Which is more than I can say that I did. I was wrong." He sounds pained. "You're not more trouble than you're worth."

"Thanks," I snap. "Your condescension, as always, is much appreciated. Now go away." I don't look at him, but allow myself to fade into the background, melt into the wintry scenery.

"You're still here." Bunny says, sounding sure of himself. "You're a summer spirit, Sparks. S'why you don't like the cold. And no one knows spring and summer like I do." I glower, though he can't see me. "Look, the lights are going out. Children aren't believing anymore, and Easter is tomorrow. We're going to the Warren – we're going to get those little lights flickering again. But North, Tooth and I...we're getting weaker. We need your help."

"Why do you think I can help?" I ask heatedly. "I don't _do _anything except make things explode when I get angry." He still can't see me, though my voice can be heard.

"I dunno about that." Bunny contradicts me. "That was some might-fine magic you did just now. Besides, you've never been anyplace like the Warren. I think you'll surprise yourself."

"What if I say no?"

"Then you can sit up here, freezing cold, and feeling sorry for yourself. But Jack's agreed to come. And he's been worried about you." I can't risk getting close to any of them. Not after how Sandy's death affected me, and especially not with what Pitch has planned for them. But I don't want to say goodbye to Jack. I exhale angrily, hating my indecision. My breath steams and sparks, and I reappear.

"Fine." I say. But after this, I'm done."

"Whatever you say, shiela." Bunnymund says with a small smile. "Come on, let's let the rest of them sad sacks know that you're alright. Toothiana was going out of her mind."

"Sparks!" Tooth says as soon as I touch down in North's workshop. She flies over to me, anxiously patting my face and hair, as if to make sure that I'm in one piece. "Oh, we were all so worried. You went after Pitch all on your own – don't ever do that again!" Baby Tooth hovers over Jack's shoulder and chirps her agreement.

"I'm fine." I lie. "I didn't even find Pitch. He got away." More lies.

"Good thing too," Bunnymund says behind me. I whirl on him, my eyes glowing angrily. "We want a crack at Pitch and you might've pulled him apart."

"That's right." North agrees heartily. "What you did, Sparks, that was amazing."

"Maybe if it had worked." I mutter, though truthfully, I don't even know how Jack and I managed that. I've never displayed anything like that kind of power before. But, then again, my powers have been in a very irritating state of flux since this whole thing started.

"Hey," Jack says quietly, moving through the throng of Guardians. They step back and move away, giving us some space. Not so subtle, but appreciated. "Are you alright?" we both ask at the same time. "Jack?" I insist urgently. Watching him fall through the air after our little...explosion...nearly stopped my heart, but I had been too overwhelmed with rage to make sure that he was okay. Stupid of me, and reckless too. I shouldn't have left him alone.

"I'm fine, really," Jack replies. "You?"

"I shouldn't have left." I say quietly, ignoring his question.

"No." Jack agrees and I look up sharply at him. "Not without me. We've got a score to settle with that son of a bitch, and next time you're gunning, you're bringing me with you." Jack hand, encased in ice, grabs mine and both of our powers flare. Sparks and ice shards fill the air. "We're stronger together. Stronger than Pitch." I don't know about that, but his confidence in me – in us – makes me smile.

A smile that I have to fight to keep up when I remember that I'm going to leave soon. It's frightening how used to this I've become in such a short period of time – being with people, I mean. It never used to bother me that Jack couldn't see me, but now that I've talked with him, that we've fought and laughed together...It's going to be so much harder now.

"Well, now that we've established that you're all in one piece," Bunnymund says. "We're on a clock, people."

"He is right," North agrees. "Everyone, to the sleigh!"

"Oh, no, mate," Bunny says, hopping in front of him. "My Warren, my rules. Buckle up." Bunny taps his foot twice on the stone floor of the workshop. North yells something in Russian as the ground sinks away, leading into a tunnel that reminds me more of a slide than anything. Jack and I whoop excitedly, flying through as the other tumble and trip over themselves.

"Buckle up," North says good-naturedly when we finally make it to the end of the tunnel. "That is good one." I laugh, though I feel like I'm missing the joke.

"Welcome to the Warren." Bunny says proudly. Two enormous stones shaped like Easter eggs turn towards us in greeting. It's beautiful, I'll give it that much right away. Lush, green and, most importantly, warm, this place has got to be the opposite of North's workshop. Everything here is natural and organic and I find myself flying higher without even trying. Something about the Warren is energizing me and I can't help but love it.

Even if that means admitting that Bunny is right: I am a summer spirit, and this place is good for me.

"Hold on," Bunny says suddenly, his nose twitching and his ears swiveling back and forth. "Something's up." I burn a little hotter. Nightmares. Little white eggs come running out of a tunnel made of stone, running on their own two feet. Bunnymund points his boomerangs towards he mouth of the tunnel and North unsheathes his swords. Jack and I look at each-other as he readies his staff and I light my hands on fire. With a roar, Bunny leads the charge towards the tunnel, only to be stopped short by what emerges. Not one of Pitch's nightmares, but a little girl with long, messily-cut blonde hair that hands over one of her eyes. She looks up at us, confused for a moment. The eggs in her arms wiggle and kick.

"Sophie?" Jack asks. I roll my eyes, of course he would know the only child to break into Easter Island. Figures. Jack and the others quickly smile and hide their weapons but I don't bother. Unlike my brother, I accept the fact that she can't see me. Sophie, seeing one of the elves that traveled with us here, drops the eggs and starts chasing it.

"What is _she _doing here?" Bunny demands. North pats his coat.

"Uh," he mutters, "snow-globe." Bunny smacks a paw to his forehead, groaning.

"Crikey!" Bunny grumbles. "Somebody do something!"

"Don't look at us." Jack and I say. "We're invisible."

"Elf!" Sophie chants, dragging one of the elves by its hat.

"Don't worry bunny," Tooth trills, flying to Sophie. "I bet she's a fairy fan. Look, little one." Sophie's eyes go wide.

"Pretty!" she says, reaching for Toothiana's feathers.

"Aw," Tooth coos. "I've got something for you. Look," she says, opening her palm to reveal a few teeth inside. "Look at the pretty teeth, with a blood and gums on them." I look at Jack and raise an eyebrow. Is she serious? Sophie screams and runs away. Jack and I laugh.

"Blood and gums?" he asks. "Really? When was the last time any of you actually hung out with kids?" He flies over to a stone statue that Sophie is amusing herself with, delighting in the echo that comes from its mouth.

"We are busy bring joy to children," North says. "We don't have time for...children..." He trails off, obviously realizing the flaws in his own argument.

"If one little kid can ruin Easter," Jack says, creating a single snowflake and sending it towards Sophie. "Then we're in worse shape than I thought."

"No offense, guys," I chime in, "but I've been off the radar for three-hundred years and I could've called that one."

"You try," Jack suggests, pointing to the little blonde girl.

"I can't." I say. I don't even do well with mythos, and I don't think Sophie would appreciate a good old-fashioned explosion.

"Come on, we're related. You can't be that bad with kids. Besides, if I'm to believe everything you've told me, you practically raised me. And I know I can't have been an easy kid."

"No, you were a real pain in the ass." I agree. "Fine, I'll try it." I say when Jack looks expectantly at me. My eyes turn to Sophie and I can't help but laugh at her as she dances around in grass, laughing at everything. Her hair flies in the warm breeze and I can't help but think that she must be in paradise. With that in mind I spread my fingers, allowing a new kind of feeling, a new kind of power to wash over me from the inside out. Out of my fingertips burn little starbursts every color of the setting sun that dance in the air like fireflies before winking out of sight. They're tiny, but every one is as detailed and intricate as one of Jack's snowflakes. Sophie runs after them delightedly, catching one in her hands and ooh-ing and ahh-ing for a moment before it disappears and I make a new one for her to play with.

"See!" Jack whoops, clapping me on the back. "You did it!" He tosses a few snowflakes into the air and I match them with my starbursts. The two twine together, making something even more beautiful: a perfect mix of summer and winter. Bunny still growls under his breath and Jack and I grin together, sending our magic his way. The power bursts in Bunny's eyes, shining blue and violet for a moment before he grins.

"You want to paint some eggs?" he asks Sophie. I smile, lifting myself into the air.

I soon find that I'm not much for egg-decorating, but, intoxicated with the thrill in the air that I haven't felt since I was human, I fashion a fiddle and bow out of diamonds and begin to play. The music fills the Warren, matching the steady beat of the eggs as they march out of the tunnels and are painted by enchanted flowers. I don't know where the music comes from, but no one seems to mind. I lose sight of the Warren while I play and am only aware of the music. Somehow, it paints pictures that only I can see, coloring my field of vision with magic. My own magic.

"That's so beautiful." Toothiana says, flying up to me on my perch in the trees. "Where did you learn to play music like that?"

"I used to play when I was human." I explain without stopping the movement of my bow over the fiddle's whisper-thin diamond strings. "Jack and I...we had a lot of time on our hands when...when our mother died. He was always artistic, so he threw himself into that." I smile. "That's how he can create millions of individual, unique snowflakes without even trying, because he was an artist when we were human."

"But what about you?" Toothiana asks. I frown a little.

"I was never really good at anything but music. I got lost in it when my mother died. I guess it transferred."

"No, it's more than that." Tooth says, pointing. "Look at what your music is doing." I look out, but I don't see anything. "Don't you see the magic? You're not just fire and rage, Sparks, you're _life._ You're spring and summer, both!" I smile, seeing it now. The magic I saw when I played, it's infused into the Warren, as if I'm viewing it through two different lenses, one that sees the physical, the other that detects magic. I smile and keep playing as Tooth goes back to help with the eggs.

"This is for you, Sandy," I murmur and despite Sandy's death hanging over me, with the music in the air, the breath of new life interwoven into everything I see, I can't help but think that I am truly something that I haven't been in a very, very long time.

Happy.

* * *

**I am truly shocked and honored at the response that this story has gotten. Everyone who's been reading, reviewing, and following/favoriting: Thank you so much for your support. You all are the kind of audience authors dream of. So my prompt for you this time is more open-ended: Tell me what you think of the story? Likes, dislikes, if you're on the fence about something, suggestions for where it should go or ideas of how you think it will end. All I want is to improve and make this story the best it can be. **

**Thank you all!**

**~Fae**


	8. Chapter 8

As I play my fiddle, the breezes over the Warren pick up, playing with my sunset hair as if they've got minds of their own. Around me, diamonds have begun to sprout over the ground and I notice them disappearing as my hair gets heavier and heavier. Curious, I float over to a stream that laughs and gossips like a living thing and take a glance at my reflection. It looks nothing like me. My pale skin shines with golden light and my eyes aren't shadowed or hooded with secrets or fear. My hair has been braided down my back, with diamonds interwoven into the intricate braid. I cock my head slightly, watching as my hair falls over my shoulder. Weird. But not bad. I...I think I like it. I smile and go back to playing, perching myself in a tree and leaning against its trunk.

"You know," Jack says after a while, breaking away from the egg-decorating. Baby Tooth flutters above his shoulder. I'm glad. The fairy should stay far, far away from me. "I think you've got me on the ropes for the pretty twin title." I look at him oddly until he gestures at my hair and I laugh.

"Something about this place," I explain. "I don't know what it is, but I feel..." Healthy. I've been so sick for so long, I've forgotten what it feels like not to be weak and ailing.

"I know." Jack says, nodding. "You look like you're in your element." I smile and play a little more, my bow skipping across the diamond strings of the bow. "I remember that," Jack says after listening in silence for a while. "The music."

"I used to play while you sculpted or painted." I say, humming softly at the memory. "You always said that it helped when you got stuck. You're quite the artist."

"I try, I try," Jack grins before sobering for a minute. "How did you do it? Make me remember you, I mean."

"A little trick the moon taught me." I reply. "Only to be used in case of emergency."

"I think the Guardians trying to kill you counts." Jack says.

"I'm glad you agree." I smile. "What do you remember? About being human?" I've been wanting to ask this for a while, but too afraid of the answer. I hold my breath.

"Next to nothing." Jack replies. "Mostly you, and that's not much to go on. There's really only one that's clear. I think you were splinting my arm...did I ever fall out of a tree or something?" Jack shrugs. "I don't know really. It's like when you're sleeping and you don't know if the dream's real or not. When you made me remember, it's like I was dreaming and then I woke up." He shrugs again.

"I'm not sure how it works either," I admit. "I was doing a lot on faith. I'm not used to this kind of power. It's been very touch-and-go since the beginning. But you were right about the fall. I remember that. You broke your arm trying to steal a bear's honey out of a bee's nest. With the bees still inside."

"Seriously?"

"I kid you not." I reply. "I have never seen so many bee stings in my life." Jack blinks at me for a moment before bursting into laughter and I laugh along with him. "I used to have to do that kind of stuff all the time." I say when I can breathe again. "Mama – " I stop suddenly. Damn, I've gone too far. Stories of him falling out of trees are all well and good, they're safe, but I can't risk triggering different memories. _Dangerous _memories.

"Wait, _what_?" Jack presses when I go silent. "What about our mom?" I bite my lip, not wanting to continue. "Sparks, please. You're my sister and I _know _that, but that's all I've got: A feeling and half of a memory. That's it. You're the one lifeline I have to my past life, so you've got to throw me a bone here." I hesitate for a moment, but only one. Jack's right, I can't hoard what I know – at least when it comes to our mother. So I tell him. I say how warm she was, and how she used to chase us around the woods when we'd get into trouble. How she used to sing to us when we couldn't sleep and was nothing but encouraging when we'd showed interests in art and music.

"Is that how you found out?" Jack asks, interrupting me .

"What, that I was dead?" I clarify. Jack nods. "No." That's not a story I want to get into right now. "Mama died a few years before, when we were sixteen." Jack's face falls.

"Who took care of us, then?"

"Our father." I bite the last word angrily. It's a reflex.

"Who, clearly, we had issues with." I blink at his use of 'we.' We. He's already thrown his lot in with mine. I worry my lip, wondering how wise of a decision that choice is. "Go on, what was Daddy-Dearest like?"

"He...he was angry." I say finally with a rueful smile. "God knows I had to have inherited my temper from _somewhere_."

"Bullshit," Jack says, calling me out immediately. "You're not so dangerous. I don't think you're scary at all." I look at him strangely before I realize that it's a joke. Sarcasm, I'm good at, but the sense of humor is still in-progress. I wave my bow menacingly at him.

"Keep talking, little brother, and I'll show you how scary I am." I say, but I can't keep a straight face.

"Yeah, and that's another thing." Jack says laughing as I shoot sparks at him. "Am I really younger? I mean, we're twins!"

"Eight minutes." I say. "We're eighteen, but I'm eight minutes older. And unfortunately for you, those eight minutes really counted." Jack glares and before I can say another word, a snowball hits me square in the face. I blink, open-mouthed and wiping snow off of my face. "You did not – "

"What are you going to do?" Jack taunts, waving his staff at me. "What, those eight minutes didn't make you faster?"

"I might actually have to kill you." I say, musing. "Yes, yes, I think I do." Within seconds, we're streaking through the air together. Jack throws snowballs at me and I shoot sparks. I don't know what it looks like from below, but from where I am, our little brawl looks like summer and winter exploded in midair.

"Jack!" Toothiana flies in after only a few minutes. "We don't have time for playing around!" Jack hangs his head, though he winks at me when Tooth isn't looking. "And Sparks, can you play again? The eggs like it...the music makes them go faster!" I smile and assure her that I will, floating back down into the tree and picking up my bow and fiddle where I'd left it before. Jack throws one last snowball at me and I swat it away with my bow. The wind picks up and shoves him through the air, as if he'd been pushed and I laugh before I go back to playing.

"Well," Bunnymund says, hopping up to me after a while with Sophie on his back. "Do I get to say 'I told you so?'"

"Absolutely not. Nope." I reply, but I'm smiling. I like this softer magic that the Warren has brought out in me – I like talking to Jack like we're real siblings. And playing music makes me feel human again.

"Pretty!" Sophie says, clapping her hands and dancing to the tune I'm playing. I pick up the tempo and fly down on a whim to dance with Sophie, spinning faster and faster. Starbursts shoot from where my bow meets the strings in time with the music. I know she can't see me, only hear the music, but I find that I like the dancing. Sophie whirls around, her gold hair flying through the air as the music reaches its crescendo and then stops altogether. The little girl spins once more before falling onto the soft grass, giggling and clapping. Bunny gives me a knowing look that I ignore.

"Oi, ankle-biter." he says, "How 'bout an encore?" Bunny claps his paws together and taps one enormous foot on the ground.

"Dance! Dance!" Sophie chants and I take that as my cue, striking up another song. Bunny dances on his own for a moment before pulling Sophie into the dance. I laugh out loud and keep playing, losing myself in the music. Magic blooms across my vision and I am swept up in its beauty, blind and deaf to the world.

Until Sophie screams. My eyes snap open and I am forced back into the present. Darkness has descended over the Warren and the sudden silence echoes like music never could. A lone figure flies above Easter Island. Pitch. I snarl and the bow and fiddle melt in my hands.

"Get the others," I order. "I'll protect Sophie." I can't be sure that he's coming for me. I hope beyond all hope that he's not coming for me. Bunny bounds away in a hurry and I make sure that Sophie is safely positioned behind me.

"Ah, Sparks," Pitch says crisply, landing in front of me. So much for my not being a factor in his visit. "You failed to mention that you have such an affinity for music – or that you were one for children. Sophie, isn't it?" Pitch smiles coldly.

"You stay away from her," I growl.

"Oh, fear not. The child is not the one I've come for." Pitch says silkily, extending a hand. "Have you thought on my offer? I know that I'm a touch early, but I became impatient, you understand."

"I – " I say haltingly, trying to buy time. "I don't have an answer!"

"Pity," Pitch tuts. "And I thought that the choice was so easy. Maybe you just need stronger incentive." A nightmare appears from nowhere and lunges – not for me, but for Sophie. She screams again and I blast the nightmare apart. "I was under the impression that you wanted to keep your brother's memories hidden from him!" I fend off a nightmare with one hand and send a column of flame into the air, aiming for Pitch. He laughs at me and vanishes. "You and I both know what will happen to the pair of you if you're nasty little secrets are ever unbottled!" Pitch's voice echoes before fading away. Nightmares replace him, filling the sky faster than I can shoot them out of it.

"Sparks!" Jack yells, flying towards me, fear flashing in his eyes.

"Get Sophie out of here!" I shout, turning to the little girl. "Sophie, I know you can't see me, but you need to forget. _Forget_." If she remembers this, Pitch wins another victory. And like the memory trick, this is another one the moon taught me, but I don't know how effective it will be when I'm invisible. But I have to try. I wave my hand quickly over Sophie's eyes and two blue-violet starbursts wink there before she passes out quietly. I've only looked away from the nightmares for a second, but it's a second too long. One nightmare screams triumphantly and leaps for Sophie, now completely defenseless.

"No!" I shout and throw myself between the nightmare and the little girl. The nightmare hits me square in the chest and I feel myself shudder to a halt as dark energy courses over my body, freezing me in place. Within second I am trapped within the nightmare. I bang against it's ribs, but the fire in my hands splutters out as soon as I make contact. I try to make myself transparent, but I can't concentrate; I'm too overwhelmed by fear. The other Guardians course over the hill, attacking the nightmare with everything they have. North hacks at it with sword and Bunny throws boomerangs. Tooth ping back and forth, she and Baby Tooth stabbing the thing. I gasp, clutching at my heart and trying to make myself as small as possible. Every blow that lands on the nightmare...I feel it too. Nasty wounds and stab-marks open up all over my body, oozing golden blood before sealing themselves up again, only to be reopened a second later. They're killing it, but they're also killing me.

"Stop," I gasp. "Please!" I can't die. I have to protect Jack. I can't die. But the Guardians ignore me, though I know from the looks in their eyes that they can hear me.

"Stop!" Jack shouts, slamming his staff into the ground and sending up a wall of ice between me and the Guardians. "You're killing her!" The nightmare nickers as if it's laughing at us and paws the ground.

"Jack," I say urgently, knowing that it's about to take flight. "Don't follow me. Don't come looking for me. You need to keep yourself safe. Stay away – " My words are cut off as the nightmare takes to the air, still laughing at my pathetic struggles to get free. I growl and let my hair go out – it's going to happen soon anyway. I won't be taken against my will. I _won't. _I stop beating against the horse's ribcage and sit quietly, concentrating, fighting through the fear. But even as I do so I can't help but think that Pitch is right. The Guardians, for all of their preaching about protecting people, about light and goodness, were willing to kill me along with the nightmare. If it wasn't for Jack, they would have. And as far as they know, we're innocent. If they knew the rest of it...they'd tear us apart.

With that thought driving the fear from my mind, I press my hand against the nightmare's ribs and let my power flow through it. I am stronger than it, I am stronger than fear. Just like when Pitch overtook the Sandman's dreams, turning them dark, fire flows out from my fingertips, spreading over the ethereal horse's body. Within seconds the nightmare is changed, something new entirely. I fly, free now, and the fiery horse follows me. It's beautiful – and deadly. Every inch of it burns with flickering red-and-gold flames, except for its hooves, which as stark black and crackle with electricity. It looks at me with intelligent, coal-black eyes, as if waiting for orders.

"Come on, girl," I say, knowing that the creature I've created is a girl instinctively. "We're going to make one hell of an entrance. The horse nickers and allows me to mount her. We burn, quite literally, through the sky, crashing ungracefully through Pitch's hole in the ground to his lair.

"Hey, Boogeyman!" I shout, not waiting for him to find me. I'm tired of asking for permission. "I've got an answer for you."

* * *

**So what do you all think that Sparks' answer is? I don't really have a prompt for you this time. But I'd like reviews. And please don't take this in a whiney way, but your feedback is honestly what I look forward to the most about posting chapters. I love it when someone writes a ridiculously long review. I, quite seriously, will go back and re-read your reviews when I am feeling low. You guys keep me going. **

**~Fae**


	9. Chapter 9

"How very dramatic," Pitch says, appearing out of a swirling shadow. "What is this? Are we learning things, Sparks?" The Baby Teeth in their hanging cages chirp weakly at me, but I tune them out. I have to tune them out.

"You might say that." I say, smirking and dismounting my blazing steed. She snorts and stamps, as if preparing to charge.

"Is that..." Pitch trails off, examining the horse I commandeered from his nightmare. He recognizes it instantly. "Oh, it is! We _are _learning! How marvelous! Truly, it is a wonder."

"_She's_ got a name." I say shortly. This isn't what I'm here about. "Fyra."

"Ah, German for _fire_. Poetic. A linguist as well as a demolition expert. You are becoming more and more valuable by the minute, Sparks." Pitch smiles, pausing for a moment as he looks at me, as if noticing me for the first time. He puts a thoughtful finger to his lips. "And I must say, you look stunning." He brushes a flyaway strand of hair behind my ear and I have to fight not to flinch away. "The diamonds are a nice touch." Pitch smiles, sobering when he sees that I am not moved by his compliments. "But enough of that. I think we both know why you're here. Although I am rather surprised that the nightmare took you and not the child."

"Your business is with me." I reply curtly. "Some kid has nothing to do with my choice."

"Ah, but you sound so somber!" Pitch says, a little hurt. "I would have thought that this would be a momentous occasion for you. You and your brother are safe."

"Safe is a relative term, Boogeyman." I say and there is an edge in my voice.

"Fear not, Sparks, your brother is in no danger from me. The Guardians pose more of a threat than I do, now that you're here. But I must ask, what changed your mind? In the Warren you seemed so set against me."

"They tried to kill me." I say coolly, but my hair burns with anger. They tried to kill me so that they might eradicate one nightmare of millions. They just met me, I'm volatile and dangerous, but would it be worth killing me to rid the world of a single nightmare that would be replaced thousands of times over?

I guess it was.

"Oh." Pitch says softly. "I am sorry. I did try to warn you..."

"And you were right." I snap. "They would've killed me if Jack hadn't stopped them." They don't even know what we've done. And now they never will.

"I am sorry." Pitch says again, and he sounds...sincere, oddly enough. I glance up for a moment and find Pitch's eyes on me, void of a hard, superior edge, and instead open and honest. "But do you see now, that they cannot be trusted?"

"And you can?" I shoot at him, still on the offensive. Pitch laughs, high and keening.

"Of course! Fear doesn't lie, it just tells you what you may not want to know. I have always wanted us to work in tandem, but I have never lied to you to make you do it, nor threatened. I simply told you what you already knew." I think back, back to our very first conversation. He's right. Again. Something that's beginning to get on my nerves, but I don't think on now.

"Regardless." I say, waving a dismissive hand. I take a deep breath, steeling myself. "I'm here now. I fight with you."

"And I couldn't be more pleased." Pitch says. The Baby Teeth screech weakly in their cages. "Shall we be going then?"

"No." I say. Pitch stops, his jubilation cut short, replaced by concern and confusion.

"Oh?"

"I have conditions." The concern is replaced by a slightly-patronizing smile.

"I shouldn't have expected anything less. Shall I add 'shrewd businesswoman' to your list of qualifications?"

"Jack stays out of this." I say, ignoring him. "Whatever happens, he stays safe."

"Of course, of course." Pitch says, waving a nonchalant hand. "I told you, your brother has nothing to fear from me. He will never regain his memories, and he will be safe with us." There it is again. Us. Our. Words that make me seem like I'm part of a group. First Jack used it, now Pitch. I don't know why, but they make me nervous. I've been alone for so long...

"Understand this:" I say, channeling my confusion into anger, as per usual. "Jack comes first. You keep him safe, Pitch Black."

"I swear," Pitch says solemnly, no hint of the trademark condescending smirk on his lips. "Is that all, or are there more terms?" Now the smirk is back, but I have no other conditions. Jack is safe, he's apart from all of this craziness. He's with the Guardians, though, which isn't safe, but like I said earlier: Safe is a relative term. "No? Then come, Sparks. I have much to teach you."

"Teach me?" I repeat, raising an eyebrow.

"Oh yes." Pitch says, nodding. "There is much for you to learn if you are to be a vessel of fear. There's more to what I do than you might think." With that, Pitch takes to the air and flies out of his underground lair. I blow out my cheeks in irritation, but follow him. I agreed to this, I've got to follow it through. Fyra has vanished into thin air somewhere, probably setting a forest on fire or something. I don't worry; I'm confident that she'll come back when I call her.

"I don't think you realize that I'm not much good." I say before Pitch can start. "My magic is purely physical. I can't manipulate dreams or create nightmares or anything like that." I fiddle with a diamond that's popped up in my hand and then show it to him. "See? This is about as much as I'm good for."

"Oh, you underestimate yourself." Pitch says, shaking his head. "You changed one of my nightmares, didn't you? And those are purely dream magic."

"Yes but – "

"No buts." Pitch cuts me off. "You can do so much, if you'd just stop being afraid."

"I'm not afraid," I snap, before I realize who I'm talking to. "Shit." I grumble. Pitch laughs, loud and genuine, without any kind of mocking edge, which I find surprising. I expected more cruelty from the Nightmare King.

"You don't want the power because you're afraid of it. Why is that?" I know that he won't leave me alone until I answer, especially now that he's caught me in a lie.

"I've seen what it does to people. I was happier with less power and more anonymity."

"That's not quite true, I think," Pitch says and I look at him, confused. Why would I lie now? I _don't _want this power. "Your new-found abilities have lead you to your brother. That, at the very least, makes you happy." I have to admit that he's right about that. "See, you know I speak the truth. Come now, I want to show you something." Pitch dives towards the ground and I have no choice but to follow him as he ghosts through the walls of a house below, into a small boy's bedroom. The air above the boy's head is clear, no nightmares, but no dreams either. He doesn't mutter or toss and turn in his sleep and his eyelids under his sandy-colored hair don't twitch. Pitch soon rectifies that, forming a nightmare in his hand and setting it free over the boy's head. It nickers and gallops to and fro and the boy whimpers in his sleep, shivering suddenly.

"Change it," Pitch suggests gently, gesturing to the nightmare. "Like you did with Fyra. Go on."

"I can't." I say.

"You can." Pitch insists. "There's more to fear than just the dark, Sparks. People also fear what they cannot control. Fire, lightning...any of those sound familiar to you?" Fire and lightning are my weapons of choice, its true, but...

Pitch gives me a look and I turn away from him and face the nightmare. Biting my lip, I reach for the nightmare, my hand accidentally brushing the boy's cheek as I do so. I gasp and step back as images explode in my mind's eye: a sandy-haired boy playing soccer, scoring the winning goal; the same boy, a little older, walking hand-in-hand with a girl with raven hair and both are smiling; two adults, a shaggy, sandy-haired man and a dark-haired woman dancing in wedding attire; the two of them having children, growing old together; two graves side-by-side in a cemetery. I pull back violently, taking my hand off of the boy's face. That was him. His future that just unfolded before my eyes.

"Sparks?" Pitch says. I vaguely remember hearing him say my name several times, but I was too engrossed in what I'd been seeing. "Sparks, are you okay?"

"Fine, fine," I say, shaking off his concern. I reach for the nightmare, careful not to touch the boy again. Instinct orders me to keep what I've seen a secret. I'm fine, I tell myself as I release my own power into the nightmare, only a little this time. I don't want to make it mine, I want to just change it a little. Fire ripples across the nightmare's black body, almost seeming to be absorbed into its skin. It takes off again, galloping with new energy – my energy – and when it moves, I can see flashes of read beneath its skin, the fire shining through.

"It's beautiful." I murmur, unable to help myself. Pitch nods his agreement, running a pale finger over the nightmare's mane.

"It's horrifying," he says. Probably a compliment. "Oh, Sparks, look at it!" The nightmare nickers, not sounding like its mocking me for once, and flies closer, nuzzling against my cheek. "How sweet. He recognizes his mother."

"I'm not his mother." I say quickly.

"I'm sorry." Pitch amends just as swiftly. "Did that make you uncomfortable? Forgive me." I blink at him, startled to say the least. I don't know what to say, so I keep quiet. I don't know how to react to a Pitch that isn't mocking or cold. I don't know how to act in this uneasy alliance that he's been hoping for this whole time.

But.

But I trust him. Inexplicably. And only to do one thing: Keep Jack's memories hidden. I know that if the Guardians win, Tooth will give Jack back his memories and then they'll kill him. This, now, I know for certain. I can't take that risk – the Guardians can not be allowed to defeat Pitch.

So I will do anything and everything in my power to stop them. I will break every rule, I will cross every line, I will do whatever it takes.

Even if it kills me.

* * *

**So, may I apologize, firstly, for the lateness of this update. I have been so busy with pre-Christmas hullabaloo and I've contracted some kind of viral infection of late. But, regardless, thank you all so much for sticking with Sparks, Jack, and I. And so, the question I pose to my brilliant readers is this: What do you think of Spark's choice, and what do you think her motivation is (besides the obvious, of course). I'd love to hear what you all think! Oh, and if I don't post again before the holiday: Merry Christmas to you all! **


	10. Chapter 10

I don't like to admit it, but Pitch is right about one thing, at the very least: There's more to what he does than I thought. The magic he's teaching me...it's unlike anything I've ever seen. It's more than just control over the elements, it's shaping them to my will, making them my own. Like what I did with the fire at the Sandman's funeral, but on a massive scale. _Learning_ magic, as opposed to stumbling upon it by accident is something that I'm unused to.

But throughout his little lessons, all I can think about is what I saw when I touched the boy's face, back in his bedroom. It was a future that I saw. The boy's future. That much I know without a doubt. But I also know that it was only _one _future. There are others floating around, but I pulled away before I could see them. _How _I know all of this, though, is the question to be answered. I've never, in all of my exceedingly-long life, ever come across a future-seer who isn't a fake or a charlatan. It's humans, mostly, who claim to see what's coming, but they're always wrong. Some mythos have sixth-senses, an inbred understanding of danger, or time, but never something as specific, or as clear as what I just saw. I don't know what to make of it – but I can't say anything to Pitch. God, if he knew what I just did...I can't even imagine how quickly his plan would come to fruition. I don't think I should add 'psychic' to my list of qualifications.

"Where were you?" I ask him later, shaking myself out of my frantic thoughts. I'm exhausted and the constant thrill of new magic, like a finger going down my spine, is making me twitchy. "I mean, I've been around a long time, and I never saw you before you found me."

"I was hiding." Pitch says without reservation. "On the dark side of the moon."

_So it's true._ I think, wincing when Pitch quirks an eyebrow and I realize that I've voiced my thoughts aloud.

"What's true?" I don't want to explain. My past is no interest of his. "Tell me. I'm curious. Please," he adds as an afterthought. I glower at him. I shouldn't have said anything – I should've just kept quiet. But, as always, I know that Pitch won't let it go until I explain.

"When I was little, my mother used to tell me stories when I was afraid and couldn't sleep."

"You, afraid?" Pitch laughs. "I doubt it."

"Do you want me to tell you?" I say curtly. Pitch nods, looking properly rebuffed. "Then no more interruptions." I pause before going on. "When I was scared, Mother used to make up stories for me. Once, I told her that I thought the moon went missing. The sky was dark and I could only see a little of the moon." I'd never noticed before and it freaked me out. "She told me that the Boogeyman was hiding up there, and that he was stretching out, trying to win the moon."

"_Just wait", she said to me, smiling as she held my hand. "Tomorrow, you'll see the moon fighting back. They're always at each-other's throats, the moon and the Boogeyman. But the moon's got an edge." _And she was right: the next night the moon grew larger and the darkness smaller. But I don't say that to Pitch.

"People knew who you were then. They were scared." I don't like thinking back, because people were scared. All the time, they looked over their shoulders, made talisman's that warded off evil and, more than anything, stayed out of the dark. When I was young, Pitch ruled. He smiles now, at my story, remembering what was, and what is to come, I'd guess.

"When were you born?" Pitch asks curiously.

"Three hundred years ago," I reply, the standard answer. Pitch shakes his head immediately.

"Impossible," he says.

"Oh?"  
"I wasn't in power then." Pitch says. "The Guardians ousted me more than seven-hundred years ago. And yet, in your youth, people were still afraid of me?" He sighs. "It was a better time. Fear was everywhere, in everyone." I don't know if I agree with that.

"Not everyone."

"Clearly," Pitch says, smiling. "Your mother sounds like an extraordinary woman. Not afraid of me...and she raised her daughter to be fearless as well."

"Not fearless." I correct, but I don't mind admitting fear, not when it will get him off the subject of my childhood. I shouldn't have brought it up in the first place. Not with someone as old as Pitch – that had been foolish.

"You're changing the subject." Pitch says after a moment, smirking at me. I want to smack him. But more than that, I want to kick myself.

"And you are annoyingly perceptive." I shoot back.

"When were you born?" Pitch asks again, insisting this time.

"Long time ago," I say evasively. "Where are your nightmares, by the way? I haven't seen them around, making trouble." Pitch gives me a look and I know that the swift change of subject hasn't gone unnoticed, but he doesn't press it. He's too eager to show off.

"Oh, I'll show you." Pitch says, extending a hand. I ignore it and fly into the air. "You might need Fyra," he suggests. I stick my forefingers in my mouth and whistle loudly, the sound flying in the wind, magnifying. Fyra appears instantly, nickering happily when she sees me. Together, the three of us fly, following Pitch through the shadows. Finally, he descends, sinking through the decaying ground into tunnels that seem familiar to me.

"Where are we?" I ask, but as soon as I look around I know the answer. Broken eggs litter the ground, their painted shells shattered. Flowers and other plant-life, some that my own music helped to grow, lay wilted on the dead ground. Bunny's tunnels. I think it just as Pitch says the words aloud. "What happened here?" There's no way that any of the eggs could've escaped this massacre. But where are the Guardians? These tunnels travel throughout the world, literally, but still, I would have thought that they'd be around somewhere. Bunnymund especially. He's got to be going out of his mind.

The thought makes guilt ping in my gut, but I steadfastly ignore it. That's worked out for me pretty well so far.

"I think we're about to have company." Pitch says gleefully and I vanish without a thought. Habit, really. Footsteps rumble through the tunnel and Pitch melts into the shadow. Fyra has disappeared as well. Both of us watch, unseen, as Bunnymund bounds towards us, his gray fur looking patchy and unkempt, his whiskers drooping. He looks like death, to be quite honest. Then it hits me: Kids are already waking up on Easter morning, and discovering that no eggs have been delivered. They're beginning to stop believing in him.

"Look at the Easter Bunny," Pitch says, his voice echoing from the shadows. He can't help himself, can he? I think to myself. "Your future looks dismal, I must say."

"Pitch!" Bunny shouts, straightening and whipping out his boomerangs. He swears violently, looking around. Pitch cackles, slipping out of the shadows and solidifying for a moment.

"I'm afraid that there's nothing left for you. Any of you." Pitch says, laughing at Bunny's decrepit state. Bunny hurls one of his weapons at Pitch's head, but it simply goes through the Nightmare King before ricocheting back into Bunny's paw. "Was that really necessary?" Pitch asks patronizingly.

"That was for Sparks!" Bunny snarls. I startle forward a little, almost losing my invisibility. For me? "What the bloody hell did your damned nightmare do with her?"

"Sparks?" Pitch repeats, looking towards me for only the briefest of seconds. "Why, she's perfectly safe. Exactly where she wants to be." Bunny snarls wordlessly and lunges at Pitch, who just laughs and melts away. But Bunny, even in his weakened state, doesn't give up the attack. Pitch keeps dodging, but he's enjoying himself too much. He's sloppy, and eventually, Bunny gains an edge. His boomerang flies through the air and Pitch isn't paying enough attention to evade it. I don't hesitate, moving between the two of them and setting myself fully on fire. The projectile passes through my chest painfully – more painfully than I expect – and bursts into flames as it does so. I solidify, falling to the ground as I try to catch my breath. I should be used to things passing through me. I used to be used to it, but after my brief stint with the Guardians, my defenses have lowered, and so has my pain tolerance, apparently.

"Sparks!" Pitch and Bunny both say together, their voices a chorus of concern. Bunny seems to be frozen in place, his eyes wide with incomprehension and disbelief. Pitch swoops to my side, kneeling next to me. Fyra appears, barring the way between Bunny and I, her coal eyes glowing with protective anger.

"Are you alright?" he asks urgently. "Sparks, answer me."

"I'm fine," I grind through my teeth, pressing a hand against my chest, as if stifling the flow of blood from a wound, though mine isn't something so physical. "Ow. Dammit."

"Sparks?" Bunny repeats himself. "What – what are you doing, sheila? He's going to kill you, like he's trying to kill all of us!"

"And yet it was _your_ weapon that hurt her," Pitch hurls at him, murder in his eyes. "You and yours already tried that, though, didn't they? Her Jack had to keep her from dying by your hand."

"Sparks..." Bunny says, wounded. That pisses me off. I stand of my own volition, meeting the Easter Bunny's eyes. He has no right to look at me like that.

"Yes, Bunny, it's true." I say calmly, my eyes blazing, though my voice is calm. Fyra snorts in appreciation of my strength, vanishing to cause trouble somewhere else now that I've proven that I'm all set here. "I've turned traitor. Working with the big bad guy. Here's the rub: he's the only one that's been honest with me. Funny thing, that."

"But – " Bunny tries again and I stop him.

"But nothing." I say, my voice deadly. "Goodbye Bunny." Pitch smiles warmly at me and ghosts through the tunnel wall and I move to follow. Bunny hops in front of my, blocking my path.

"Sparks," he says. "No. You can't do this."

"I do what I want." I reply. "I do what suits me, when it suits me. I told you that I was done and I kept my word." I float above him now, but stick my face near his. Up close, Bunnymund looks even more haggard, if that's possible. "And now, I will do whatever it takes to make sure that you are forgotten forever." I vanish then, and follow Pitch up into the open air.

That last bit was cruel, but true. It's what Pitch wants. I have to do it. Now Bunny will tell the others. My heart sinks at that thought. Jack will be crushed. He'll be devastated.

But maybe it will convince him not to fight for the Guardians. Maybe it will be enough to take him out of this insane, dangerous equation.

* * *

"Sparks?" Pitch asks, back in his underground lair. I have been silent for hours, wrapped up in my own thoughts and absently practicing magic. Diamonds litter the overlarge space that Pitch has deemed "my rooms." They're extravagant and stupid, actually decorated in fiery colors, with fires constantly blazing from the ceiling, as opposed to decaying like the rest of Pitch's home. I don't want them, but I know better than to argue with him at his point. "Are you quite alright?"

"Fine," I say immediately.

"Liar." Pitch calls me out just as fast. I glare at him.

"Says who?" I snap.

"I do." Pitch moves in front of me, looking like he wants to say something but doesn't know how to word it. "Sparks...what do you want?"

"I just want Jack to be – "

"Not for him." Pitch interrupts, waving his hands, trying to articulate himself. "What do you want for you? You can't want nothing but Jack's safety. I've already promised that."

"I want..." I say, faltering. I've never thought about it. Never. Not once. Not even when I was human. Mother always told me to look after Jack, so I did. And when I died, when _we _died, that desire transferred. I never cared that I was always sick, miserable, and powerless, because I knew that I was working to keep Jack safe.

But now, as I play absently with a diamond, I think about it for myself. What _do_ I want?

"I want to forget." I say finally. Pitch looks at me oddly.

"What?"

"I want to forget." I repeat myself. I have been alive for so, so long. Longer than three-hundred years. Longer than Jack, longer than most of the Guardians, in fact. I don't want to have to live with the memories anymore. I don't want to remember any of it anymore. I want what Jack was blessed with. I want what the Man on the Moon gave him.

Nearly twelve centuries. That's the answer that Pitch was looking for earlier today when he asked how old I am. One-thousand-two-hundred-and-fifty-six. Twelve centuries of mistakes, guilt, and only three-hundred of those where I knew who I was and what I had to do.

I'm too old. I've been alive for too long. And now, all I want is to forget.

* * *

**So what do my brilliant readers think of this new development? I would like to hear all of your opinions. And, to those who do leave reviews: Thank you. Thank you so very much. Your kind, inspiring, constructive words are what get me through the bad days. **

**~Fae**


	11. Chapter 11

I remember when Jack died. He died before I did. We had decided to go ice skating that day. I didn't like skating – I didn't like ice – but Jack said that the ice was finally thick enough to skate on. And it was our birthday. I wanted to do something special, and we hadn't gone skating in years. We both looked so different back then. Neither of us was as vibrant as we are now – we were twins, after all, and shared similar brown hair and cocoa-colored eyes. Our stature was the similar, we were tall and lanky, thin from spare eating, though I was thinner. But both of us loved being outside, in the open air and free. That much has always been the same.

"Come on, will you?" Jack said impatiently, already on the ice. "We haven't got all day." He grinned like he knew there was going to be hell to pay for our little excursion – which there was. Da hated when Jack and I ran off, so we made a point of it to do it as often as possible. But he was always furious when we came home.

"I'm coming, I'm coming," I replied just as impatiently, strapping on my skates and following my little brother out onto the ice. We skated for a long time, Jack showing off and doing tricks while I struggled simply to stay standing up.

"Jack," I said warily, stopping. I thought I heard something on the ice. Jack ignored me and kept spinning around. He did a jump right next to me and this time, I definitely heard something. I looked down to see tiny cracks creating a spiderweb beneath my feet.

"Jack!" I shouted, fear staining my voice. He stopped instantly, his face paling when he saw the cracks in the ice. "Jack." I said, trying to keep my voice calm and stay as still as possible. "Get off of the ice. Right now."

"Not a chance," Jack said, stepping gingerly. The cracks had begun to spread and I knew that I was going to fall in. It was inevitable. I was scared. So scared. I didn't want to die. I was only eighteen, for God's sake, I was too young to die. I had so much more to do. "You're going to be okay." Jack insisted and I laughed bitterly. No. Not this time.

"Jack, you need to get off." I shifted my weight just a fraction and the ice crackled under my feet. "Move!"

"No." he shot back at me. "I'm not going to let you fall." Something in his eyes changed then, and it made me want to believe him. "Look, we're just going to play a game." Jack laughed nervously. "Like when we were kids. Hopscotch, remember?"

"This isn't one of your games," I said, swallowing with much difficulty. I've heard stories about people who fell into icy lakes in the winter. Their bodies were never recovered, none of them. Their families were devastated and people say that those who drown in freezing water never make it to the afterlife because their fear in their last moments is so strong that the King of Nightmares comes to them, and keeps them there, under the ice, unable to die and unable to live, feeding on their fear for eternity.

"You stop that." Jack said and I blinked at him, shaken out of my terrifying thoughts.

"What?"

"Stop scaring yourself." Jack tapped his own nose. "You scrunch up your nose when you tell ghost stories. Your nose was all scrunchy. You're going to be fine, okay? Hopscotch, remember?"

"Hopscotch." I repeated numbly.

"Right." Jack said. "One," he jumped lightly, but the ice still shook when he landed. "Two." Another jump. Another tremor in the ice. "Three!" Jack lunged for something. A stick that laid on the ice with a curve on the end like a hook. He lunged for it, scooped it up, and used the hooked end to grab my waist and shove me off of the cracking ice. I slid away, back to a thicker area, and scrambled to my feet as soon as I could. I looked up with a smile of giddy relief and Jack met my eyes, whooping with triumph before we both hear a noise and went perfectly still. One final, shuddering crack rings through the silence and I realized that Jack was standing on the spot where I'd just been. His momentum had landed him there, just as mine had sent me away. Jack was still smiling, not having enough time to cry out, but his eyes met mine once more.

_I saved you, _they said. And they were joyful.

Then he fell through. It was swift and sudden; one minute my brother was looking at me, the next, it was like he never existed.

"Jack!" I screamed, getting as close to the hole where he'd fallen as I dared, but he was gone. I couldn't see him. I screamed his name, pounding at the ice until I had to get onto land else I would fall in as well. But I didn't leave the lake. I stayed on the banks, shouting myself hoarse with tears streaming down my face, trying to see him under the ice, trying to make myself believe that he would come back up. I stayed out there for hours, screaming until my voice was gone, until my father finally found me the next morning, still kneeling by the lake's bank.

"Girl!" he swore at me. "D'you have any idea what time it is? Where is your bastard brother? When I find him..."

"He's gone." I rasp, saying the words aloud for the first time.

"What?" Da spat at me.

"He's gone!" I yelled, jackknifing to my feet. "He fell through the ice." Da stood in silence for a moment before nodding.

"One less mouth to feed," he said before marching through the snow back home. I blinked at him, too stunned to form words. Did we, both of us, mean that little to him? I wish that I had done something. Screamed at him, punched him in his God-awful, lopsided mouth, something other than staring at him like the worst kind of half-wit.

But I didn't. I just stared at the ground and muttered: "It was our birthday." Da never remembered our birthday, and that never bothered me, until now. Why, why did it have to happen on our birthday, of all days?

Eventually, though, I followed my father home, too tired to do any differently. I didn't cry – I had already cried myself out the night before. I was numb, physically and mentally. I had almost frozen to death myself overnight, but maybe that's what I had wanted: To die with my brother. Because when I thought that he was gone, a piece of me was gone too.

We'd done everything together. We fought for each-other, we laughed together, we tormented Da together and we always, always looked out for one-another. I had tried to tell him to get off of the ice, but he'd traded places with me, without even thinking about it. He'd saved my life at the cost of his own.

For days I neither slept nor ate, tormented by the memory of Jack falling through the ice while I did nothing but watch. Da didn't tell anyone what had happened – there wasn't a funeral. It was like Jack never existed. And the townsfolk didn't even notice because my family had always been solitary, living in the woods, away from the village. We never went there unless we had to trade for supplies, so Jack and I never really knew anyone else our age. Not that we really wanted to know the children in the village, considering that they called Jack a savage and thought that I was a witch – a fact that he and I both took advantage of when we went there to make trouble. But as soon as I thought of the fun we used to have tormenting the townsfolk, I would get a cold, dead feeling inside and I stopped the thoughts in their tracks. I shied away from anything that would remind me of him, spending days on end in the house, huddled in the darkest corner of my tiny bedroom.

Until, one night, the impossible happened. I hadn't slept in days, and at first I thought that I was dreaming when I saw Jack moving through the house as if he couldn't remember where anything was. He stumbled into my bedroom, and when he saw me, his face broke out into the biggest, brightest smile I'd every seen. He was different – he was a spirit, though I didn't know it at the time – but I recognized him immediately, though his hair and eyes had changed.

"You're still here," he said in a voice that I didn't remember, sounding relieved. "Oh, you're still here."

"Jack?" I said quietly, not daring to hope.

"It's me," he replied, his tone matching mine. "I can't believe that you can see me. The moon said that..." he trails off, his startlingly blue eyes becoming vacant for a split second.

"Jack." I repeat. "You're...alive!" And then I'm hugging him. My arms wrapped around my baby brother so tight that I think I must have been hurting him, but he didn't complain. He just hugged me back, just as fiercely. "I missed you so much." I said. "But, how are you alive?" I asked when we finally broke apart. "The ice...I saw you go through." Jack shrugged and smiled like he hadn't a care in the world. He was still holding the staff he'd used to pull me off of the cracking ice, and the same clothes he had been wearing when he'd fallen through, only now they were coated with a thin layer of ice. It didn't seem to bother him.

I dunno," he admitted. "But I am. And guess what!" He looked like he was about to say something else, but in the moment, Da appeared in my doorway. He was drunk, as usual, and struggling to stay upright.

"Who you talking to, girl?" he demanded, his words slurred.

"Da, look!" I said, pointing to Jack. "Jack is home! He's alive." My father looked around, shaking his head like a dog.

"Ain't no one here."

"Da, don't you see him?" I said, tripping over my words in my excitement and relief. How could he not? Jack was in plain sight. In fact, under the pale moon's light, he was practically glowing. "He's right here!"

"I said there's no one there, girl!" Da shouted, suddenly seized with drunken rage. He lunged at me and I didn't have time to get out of the way before his fist crashed against my cheek and knocked me to the ground. I curled into a ball, knowing better than to fight back against my father when he got like this. Sober, he was a cruel man, but drunk, he was a demon. I'd lost enough fight to him to know better. He'd pass out or loose interest before I was too badly beaten. But not another blow came. I looked up to see Jack's pale hand grasping our father's throat.

"Jack, what are you doing?" I said warily. Da was making strangled noises and his face was turning blue. "Jack stop." I said, but my brother didn't seem to be able to hear me. His eyes were riveted on our father's face, shining with rage and hate. His hand constricted and Da was struggling and loosing. Then, all of a sudden, Da went limp and Jack released his grip, letting our father slump to the ground. He was dead. I looked to Jack in horror. His eyes met mine and it was as if he was a completely different person. Just for a moment, my brother was gone, replaced by a white-haired devil. Then he blinked and the familiar smile I'd grown up with graced his lips again.

"I wanted to show you," Jack said cheerfully, not noticing our dead father on the floor. "Look!" He waved his hand and it began to snow in the room, flakes falling quickly from the ceiling.

"Jack..." I said, backing away from my brother. What had he done? Our father...dead! I looked at him in horror and he frowned.

"What's wrong?" he asked, sounding wounded. "Aren't you glad that I'm back?" I wanted to answer, but I could only move my lips wordlessly. This wasn't my brother, this wasn't Jack. He'd _killed _our father!

"You killed him." I finally managed.

"So?" Jack shot back at me. "We hated him. He was hurting you. I'm stronger now. I can do all of this," he gestured to the snow and ice swirling around in my bedroom. Jack got closer to me and I resisted the urge to flinch away. "I can protect you now, like you always protected me."

"N-no." I said, backing away from him. "No! You're not my brother! The Jack I knew wouldn't have killed our father!"

It was the wrong thing to say. Jack's blue eyes darkened to the color of the clouds before a blizzard and his face was shrouded with rage. Without a doubt I knew that it was him, my little brother, back from the dead, though I didn't know how, but this wasn't who he was. Jack wasn't a killer. My Jack wasn't a killer.

_This _Jack was.

* * *

"What did you do?" Pitch asks me when I pause the story. He's been a good audience, captive to say the very least. No questions, no interruptions, he's simply let me tell him what I've never told anyone before. Then again, I've never thought of what I wanted for myself before today either, so I'm breaking all sorts of personal rules.

"I followed him." I say. "When I finally got to town, it was a wasteland. Frozen over, completely dead. Every single person there had been turned to ice and shattered into pieces." I shudder, thinking of the icy, splintered remains of the humans who'd lived in the village. "I followed Jack for weeks, never catching up to him in time to stop him." He'd been drunk on power, so consumed with his new gifts that he'd lost himself along the way. "Until I did." I remember finding him flying above a small village miles and miles from our home. I'd been tracking him for weeks, and finally had made the right move, catching Jack before he could lay waste to another town. "I tried to talk him down." I say, looking at my hands. My fingers are long and pale, and I'm reminded of how Jack's looked when they encircled our father's throat. "But he was too far gone." I take a deep breath. My little brother, the kid I'd taken care of for my entire life, the one who'd given his life for me, almost started the second Ice Age.

"Are you alright?" Pitch asks. "Do you want to stop?" No. I don't. It's crazy, unloading my story onto the goddamn King of Nightmares, but he's the most trustworthy mytho I've met, oddly enough. I can't help but notice that he's been nothing but sincere since we struck our bargain and, honestly, I don't mind being around him. He's the only one who's been honest with me.

"Jack didn't just kill everyone in that town that day. He killed me." Dying was slow and painful, freezing to death. "But I woke up."

I woke up, and the moon told me to fight him. To make sure that Jack would never hurt anyone again. I was so much stronger than he was – in a fight between fire and ice, fire wins every time – and I managed to drive Jack back into the lake where he was first killed. The moon trapped him there, promising me not to release him until he was ready, and to keep his memories from him, as long as I was always there to keep him from losing himself again. That was our deal. Flashes of memory bombard me and I flinch away from the violence they contain. I don't want to have to remember, but I do. I remember every fiery blow that I landed on him, I remember every victim he killed to spite me while he still could.

"I always thought that the stories about the elementary spirits of olde were just that, stories." Pitch says finally. "But they were you two, weren't they?"

I nod.

"That's how I'm so much older than he is," I explain. "We both died in the same year, both came back in the same year, but he spent nine-hundred of those years frozen in the ice. He only remembers the last three-hundred because of my bargain with the moon. That's why he can never find out." I say. "It will destroy him." But I still shiver, thinking of nine centuries of loneliness. I had no purpose, I had no point in life. I couldn't die, I couldn't live, knowing that he was still trapped.

Pitch, seeming to guess my thoughts, reaches out to me, folding me in his arms and I don't shy away.

"You're not alone anymore," he says. "You do no bear this terrible burden alone."

* * *

**And the mysterious, terrible past is revealed! What do my lovelies think of this new development? I would love to hear from your point of view. For Christmas, I'd like you all to leave me a nice, long review, yes? I tried to get this up as fast as possible so that last cliffhanger wouldn't be so unbearable. Plus, it's lovely and long. (And mostly a flashback, which was difficult to write). Merry Christmas!**

**~Fae**


	12. Chapter 12

I don't speak for a while after that. In fact, that's the longest I've spoken in years. Since I died, I think. Pitch goes off to do God-knows-what and I find myself outside, high above the ground. I have nothing better to do, so I practice the magic he's taught me, conjuring up all kind of barely-controlled storms and trying to work dream magic. I have to say that I'm terrible at it. I can work with things already created, but have no gift for making dreams – or nightmares – myself.

"Dammit." I growl, dropping my hands. I almost had it that time. Fyra nickers and nudges me with her nose, as if urging me to keep trying. "Forget it." I mutter. My head's too far away for this complicated magic right now. I sit, floating cross-legged in midair, and carefully undo the braid that the Warren had woven into my hair. Its weight on my back reminds me of Bunny and North and the rest, and I can't think of them fondly, not now. I've picked my side and there's no going back. But even so, my mind strays to the Warren and I feel guilt crushing my chest. By now, Bunnymund has definitely told the others about my betrayal. Jack knows who I've sided with. He probably hates me.

But with thoughts of Jack come memories of what we both did. Before I fought him back into the ice and the moon entrapped him there for nine-hundred years. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memories of the frozen bodies, mangled beyond saving. People I couldn't save. People I killed myself, trying to get to Jack. Fires that appeared from nowhere. Lightning storms that could destroy villages in less than an hour. As much as Jack is to blame for mindless killing, so am I.

I rise quickly, something occurring to me.

"Fyra," I say. "Stay here, and tell Pitch that I'll be back by dawn." Then, I disappear. I've still got plenty of night left. And the moon is full. I fly away from Pitch's underground fortress as fast as the wind will carry me, kicking up summer storms in my wake. That just seems to happen now. I can't control it.

"You erased my memory," I say to the moon, staring up at it. I've landed on a cliff, the highest I can find, and stare up at the Man's face. I cast off my invisibility, looking at the moon freely, and allowing it to look back at me. "The knowledge of what I could do. You took all that away from me when I defeated Jack." Of course, there is no reply, but I know that I'm right. How else can it be explained how I wielded such power when I first awoke from the dead, and then had to make do with the bare minimum. And also, why I can't remember any of it. Manny was taking precautions. I was his champion against an icy spirit that was wreaking havoc, but he couldn't have me turning around and doing the same, only with fire and lightning. He took the memory of my abilities to keep me from going power-mad.

"Thank you." I whisper. I can't imagine what I might've done if I had known what I could do. Even now, learning the depths of my abilities slowly and with patience...it still scares me. The power, I mean. I don't want to lose myself. I _can't_ lose myself.

Though the night is waning fast, I don't want to go back quite yet. As I fly, I spot a town that is still in the cold clutches of winter, though it is already mid-April. Smiling, I descend and feel my palms warm. I move over the streets and buildings, melting off the ice and snow. This is what I am used to. It was hard, painful, thankless work, but I miss it. Part of me wishes that I could go back, but then Jack wouldn't know me. And as much pain as it's caused, I don't regret meeting my little brother all over again.

I seek out the last trace of the cold, following it into a little girl's bedroom. A dark-haired child shivers under her bed-covers. I touch her forehead lightly, watching her relax before images explode in my mind. I see her grow up hundreds of different ways. I see her life as it could be in thousands of different scenarios. Every choice she makes, every option she has, they all flash before my eyes in one continuous jumble that I can somehow decipher. This little girl's future...I see it. All of it.

Until instinct screams at me to turn and slip into invisibility again. I whirl, yelling out in pain as a sword passes through my chest. North stands before me as I pinwheel backwards, staggering. This is the second time in one night that something painfully sharp has gone through me and it still isn't fun. I struggle to stay invisible, but my body flickers in and out of focus as my mind reels in pain. Ow.

"Stay away from me." I growl, giving up my advantage and solidifying. I couldn't keep it up for much longer anyway, the pain is too distracting. I quickly glance at the little girl. If I light up, this whole house goes with me. I need to get outside. Problem: North's got the window blocked and I can't ghost through the walls like this. I press my hand against my middle and it comes back stained gold.

"Sword can cut through invisible things too." North says menacingly.

"Yeah, I gathered." I snap at him. "Let me go, North." I am in no place to be making threats, but then again, Nick St. North isn't looking so good. He's stooped over, as if standing upright hurts, and his beard is more gray than silver. He's getting old with disbelief. That's what happens to him. It doesn't look like brushing by him would be too much trouble, but I don't trust something in his eyes. Eyes that looked at me with such hope and joy before, that now burn with anger and disgust.

"Bunny told us what you have done." North says, his voice condemning me. I growl. "You have sided with Pitch? After all he has done?"

"After what _he's _done? What about you?" I reply. "You're not so innocent yourself, Santa. You tried to kill me. For what? For a nightmare? One of millions? Was my life worth it?" I get as close to his bearded face as a dare, my face emanating defiance. My violet eyes darken in color, but still burn bright as ever. I see the slightest bit of hesitation in North's eyes, in his manner, and I take full advantage.

"Sparks, we – " North starts, my intensity clearly startling him.

"No." I say coldly. Now, it's my turn to condemn. "No." I tried to fit in with them, with the Guardians. I tried to be good. I hid for three-hundred years; I suffered for over a thousand. I martyred myself for my brother, and I thought nothing for myself. And look where it's gotten me. Bleeding at the hands of those who are supposed to protect children. I'm not a child, but I needed protection. "I needed you." I say plainly. "Why would I stick around if I didn't need you? For shit and giggles? I trusted that Jack was safe with you, but did you ever think that a girl who has been unnoticed, unseen, for as long as I had, might want – _need_ – the so-called _Guardians _just as much as misled Jack Frost? I needed you!" I'm yelling now. "_You_ turned on me. Not the other way around." I'm furious and flaming now, completely out of control. I need to get out of this house before it goes up like I have. I roar, completely out of nowhere, and North is just startled enough to freeze for a moment, allowing me to fly past him. His enormous hands grab for my hair as I pass, but it's all on fire and I hear him cursing in Russian as his hands burn and blister. North's sleigh is suspended in midair and I brush my fingers across its wooden bottom and it takes to flame instantly. The reindeer scream in fright and I fry their harnesses so the poor creatures aren't burned to death.

"My sleigh!" North cries, standing on the house's roof while I float overhead. "Sparks!" he sees me and shakes his fist. "We shall not forget this! You have picked the wrong side!" _No_, I think sadly, shaking my head. _I put my faith in the wrong people. _

"I'm sorry," I whisper, watching the fire and smoke spiral up towards the moon. Suddenly, I am completely void of emotion. My anger has left me, leaving nothing but emptiness behind. "I'm sorry it came to this." I fly up, following the pattern of the smoke. I am lost. So lost. Not to myself, but to them. I have chosen my side and I do not regret it. Pitch has made me a promise, to keep Jack safe; but he's also promised to do what he can about my memory. The King of Nightmares is going to make my one and only dream come true. Oh, irony, how you keep things interesting. And now, this new ability. It isn't just the future, it's every possibility. I don't just see one, I see them all. It's astounding, insane. And completely unheard of.

"Tell me it isn't true." I don't bother turning. I know that voice and I don't want to face that face.

"Go away Jack." I say tiredly. I can't deal with him right now. Or with his disgust and horror at my life choices.

"Sparks, please," Jack says and I hear the pain in his voice. Still I don't turn. "Tell me that they're lying. Or that it's all a trick. You can't really be siding with _Pitch _can you?" _I'm doing it for you, you moron,_ I think, but my thoughts go unspoken.

"They're not wrong." I say quietly.

"But the Guardians – "

"Tried to kill me." I cut him off. "If you hadn't stopped them, I'd be dead."

"No!" Jack shouts, so forcefully that this time, I do turn.

"Yes." I contradict him. "Sorry, but that's the way things are."

"No," Jack says again, pointing his staff at me. It glitters with ice and power, but I make no move to defend myself. "No! What did he do to you, Sparks? Whatever he did, I'm going to fix it. This isn't you, I _know _it isn't."

"I'm not going to fight you, Jack." I say loudly. I've already done my fighting with him. I won't do it again.

"Then don't. Come with me and we can fix whatever Pitch has done to you," he says earnestly, his blue eyes wide and open. I don't reply, but keep his gaze. The both of us hover in midair for a moment. The seconds feel like hours until suddenly Jack rushes towards me. I don't know if it's a move of anger or desperation. I dodge, but don't counterattack. I'm not Pitch; I'm not the bad guy. I _won't _be the bad guy, and I won't hurt him.

"Fight back!" Jack screams at me, blasting me with ice and snow. I twirl away again and again.

"No."

One final blast catches me unawares. Half of me thinks to turn invisible but I haven't the strength while the other screams at me to engulf myself in flame. But I don't have time for indecision and flinch, preparing myself to be encased in ice.

"Sparks!" My eyes snap open and Pitch flies in out of nowhere, deflecting the ice easily and whirling to face me. "What the bloody hell do you think you're doing? If I thought that you were going to get into a little familial tiff, I'd've never let you leave the house."

"They're caves." I answer him tersely. Not a house. And I don't like what he's implying, especially not in front of Jack.

Pitch shrugs. "Same basic principle." He turns to Jack. "And Jack! That was very rude. That is not how we treat our sisters. Not that I've ever had a sister, but I'm assuming."

"You stay away from her." Jack growls, pointing his staff at Pitch's chest.

"Point that somewhere else," I snap at him.

"Now, now, you two, don't fight." Pitch says, playing mediator with a smirk.

"Shut up," I snarl at Pitch. "Or I'm taking his stick and smashing it over _your _head." Jack blinks and I can see confusion flashing across his face.

"What are you two playing at?" he demands. "What the hell is this?"

"This, my dear winter spirit," Pitch says, "is your sister making the smart choice: The one that's going to keep _you_ safe." I wince. What the hell is he doing? "Of course, it's also the one that's almost gotten her killed twice in one night and will probably result in more injuries, and yet, here she stays." Jack looks nonplussed, hesitant. Pitch moves forward, all trace of laughter gone from his eyes. He is deadly serious. "You have no idea what she's given up for you, Jack Frost." Pitch takes my hand and I fight the urge to burn him. We're sucked through the shadows and into the night, leaving Jack alone with only the moon and the smoke from the burning sleigh.

* * *

**How very dramatic. For this chapter, I don't really have a question. Just tell me your thoughts in review, if you would. The longer the better. **

**Fun fact: I wrote this while listening to the Les Mis CD. Excellent stuff, that. Hope you all had a merry, merry Christmas!**

**~Fae**


	13. Chapter 13

"Well, I must say," Pitch starts when we arrive back in the caverns. "That went splendidly." I eye him.

"I don't know if you're genuinely stupid, or if you're making fun of me." I retort heatedly, my hair going up and my hands heating. That shouldn't have happened. I shouldn't have left; Jack never should have seen me.

I know that he was always going to find out, but I wasn't ready. I don't think I'd ever have been ready for that. I shake my head, trying to rid myself of the memories and sending sparks flying everywhere.

"Whoa," Pitch says, "let's not light this place on fire, shall we?" I quickly put out the flames, but I am still furious. Anger seems to be my default and _that _makes me even angrier. I growl wordlessly, trying to cool down. "What's wrong? Jack took it rather well, all things considering."

"I'm fine." I say quietly, but forcefully, before clamping my mouth shut. My stab wound has begun to bleed again. Honestly, I'd forgotten about it, but now the pain is back. I look away, angling my hair over my eyes so that Pitch won't notice.

Yeah, right. Damn Boogeyman notices everything. "What's wrong?" he demands, striding over to me. His hands hover over my face nervously.

"Nothing." I say quickly. "I'm fine."

"You're bleeding." Pitch says, reading my fear. I've grown to recognize the dark energy that emanates from him when he's using his powers. "How did this happen? Why didn't you turn invisible?"

"I did." I say shortly. "North's swords are enchanted. And the invisibility isn't an exact science, it's a defense mechanism. I don't know exactly how it works."

"Clearly, he does. Are you badly injured?" By the sound of his voice, Pitch knows the answer to that question.

"I'll live." I say. The blood is flowing freely, but I can feel myself beginning to heal already. Spring is a time of healing, after all, and I never stay injured for long. I press my palm against where the golden liquid seeps the most and focus my energy on it. I'll be fine, it just hurts.

"You know what you need?" Pitch says suddenly, smiling wide. Apparently, he's given up on trying to play nursemaid.

"I bet you're going to tell me." I say, rolling my eyes. He looks suspiciously cheerful, looking like a gleeful child on Christmas morning. "I'm not blowing anything up for you." And I don't want to practice dream magic anymore. The wound is sapping my strength and I was tired to begin with.

"Oh, don't be that way," Pitch says, tapping my nose playfully. I eye him. "This will be fun. Listen. You've been around for a long time."

"Yes, we already covered that."

"And you're a linguist. What do those two both lend themselves to?"

"Snappy wordplay?" I suggest sarcastically. "The ability to give clever names to fire-horses on the fly?"

"Oh, come on. They both lend to strategy. You _know_ people, Sparks. You know how they think. Not to mention that you've been around long enough to have seen entire civilizations rise and fall."

"So have you," I reply.

"Yes, but I lack the interest in human affairs." Pitch says without shame. "You, on the other hand, had nothing to do while your whole reason for rebirth was refrozen in a pond." Again, Pitch proves himself correct. I had little to do but watch people for so many years. I...I went off the reservation a few times, I'll admit, but I was present for a good portion of human history, from even before the Guardians had even been created. But I was always just a casual overseer; I never really sought to learn how or why humans did the things that they did. Still, though, maybe something rubbed off on me. "See, you know that I'm right. So: strategy."

"What about it?" I insist on being difficult. I'm wounded and surly and I can't help acting like a petulant child.

"Well, you're the strategist." Pitch says offhandedly. "I just harp on fear."

"You've done pretty well without my help," I say, thinking of Bunny, North and Toothiana's dilapidated forms. They've already grown so weak, there isn't much more that he has to do to win this fight.

"Yes, but now I have your help, and I want it. So, tell me what else we must do to secure our victory. Come on, tell me a story." I glare at him, but I know that he's trying to distract me and honestly, I want to be distracted.

"Give me a map." I say. Pitch conjures one from thin air, along with a table, and spreads it out before me. Its dark, all of it, but I can make out the various hideouts of the Guardians highlighted in their respective places. Toothiana's palace glows dimmer than the others, and I can see the Warren beginning to fade as well. In the middle of the cavern, Pitch's globe spins, and the lights are flickering out, one by one. "You did the first part on your own." I say, pointing to Tooth's palace. "The Tooth Fairy. Her network is massive, extensive, and you took the heart of the operation." I gesture to the teeth piled up all around the cavern and the Baby Teeth sleeping fitfully in their cages. "That was the most efficient way to stop belief in the quickest amount of time." I don't mention Sandy. I don't want to hate Pitch for what he's done. He's trying to survive, same as the rest of us. Nightmares and Guardians can't coexist peacefully, it just can't happen. It won't happen. But a part of me, however small, still thinks of Sandy's last message to me, about the diamonds. What do they have to do with anything? Are the connected with my new future-seeing ability?

And as much as I hate the Guardians for turning against me, I reduse to believe that Sandy would've done the same. He...he was like Pitch: He never lied to me. I suppose lying is hard when you can't speak. The truth is simple, and so was Sandy's manner of communication. I bite my lip, forcing those thoughts out of my head before I make myself upset. This isn't worth talking about now. Sandy is gone, I'm still here. And so is Pitch.

Speaking of, Pitch nods and waves his hands for me to go on, after my too-long pause. "Going after Bunnymund wasn't exactly ideal. It was easy, not effective."

"Hey!" Pitch protests.

"I'm the strategist, remember?" I remind him. "And you didn't think it through. Nightmares are mindless. Without you there to directly control them, they are weak and unfocused."

"I wasn't there when a nightmare brought you to me."

"You're right," I agree. "And that nightmare is now Fyra. Now that my point is made, moving on. You need to be there, in the attacks. It does no one any good if you're not there and your nightmares miss something. An egg could've easily escaped from the tunnels."

"But – " Pitch says and I can see that he's regretting this idea. I, on the other hand, am beginning to like strategizing.

"No. You started this. Now shush." Smiling just a little, I conjure something of my own. Two somethings, in fact; little figurines that look like chess pieces made out of diamonds. One is ebony-colored and the other is bright red, like fire. "Like I was saying, going for Easter Island was convenient, not smart. Easter isn't the biggest holiday out there, just the closest one on the calendar. You need to think clever, not convenient."

"So what do you suggest?"

"I suggest going after North." Revenge for the stab wound? Maybe, but it's also the smartest course of action. "He's the most powerful Guardian and Christmas is one of the most revered holidays there is."

"But Christmas was months ago," Pitch says, "and won't come again for almost another year. How is that helpful?"

"Because," I explain patiently, smiling, "North doesn't just give kids presents. He also inspires wonder in them." That's his shtick: Wonder. And he doesn't just stay holed up in his workshop 364 days of the year, either. He goes out, walks among the children of the world, and helps stir up the imaginations of children. "There's no way you could've taken him before, but with the others so weak, he's not at his strongest. Even if they gang up on you, you've got me now."

"Brilliant." Pitch says, awed. "That's brilliant." I smile, moving the two chesspieces onto the map, surrounding North's workshop. I want to try something and close my eyes, my hand hovering over the conjured piece of paper. When I open them, the map has changed, focusing in on North's fortress only. I move my piece to the front, the most obvious, easily attackable place.

"I'll create a diversion." I say, moving on quickly before Pitch can protest, and I know that he will. "They'll come after me. Wounded pride, you understand. And when they do, it'll give you enough cover to get in through the back and wreak everything."

"You're not using yourself as bait." Pitch says firmly. "What if Jack is there." I pause, and I know he said that to make me reconsider, but I steel myself and look him in the eye.

"I'll handle it, then." I say coolly. "They're all mad enough at me that they won't be looking for you; they'll just be solely focused on me." Pitch frowns and I put my hand on top of his. "Besides, I've gotten into there before, and I'm stronger than they think I am. North caught me by surprise is all. This time, I'm the one with all the cards." I grin. "You've got to admit that it's a good plan."

"I don't have to admit anything." Pitch says, surly.

"Which is code for: Sparks you're completely right," I sing-song, mocking him only ever-so-slightly. Pitch glowers at me for a minute before smiling a little.

"You truly are an amazing creature, Sparks," he says, his yellow-black eyes earnest. I look away quickly.

"Grab your nightmares and meet me at the workshop." I say, lighting up and flying out of the tunnels. I streak across the night sky like a comet, making it to the North Pole in no time at all.

"Oi!" I shout. "North!" I can hear alarm bells ringing and the thunder of yeti footsteps. I fly above the hoard and send a blast of fire into their midst. North flies into the snow, looking older and more decrepit than ever. 'S'up, Santa?" I ask, mockingly, my eyes gleaming darkly. "Did you miss me?"

* * *

**Aw, my two evil babies, off to destroy people. What did you all think of Sparks' choice?**

**~Fae**

**(Sorry this isn't longer, I have to go to work. Can't be a burden on society, got to earn my keep!)**


	14. Chapter 14

"Sparks!" North shouts up at me. I smile and wave at him, trying to be as splashy as possible.

"Might want to check your tattoos," I suggest sing-songing. "I think I might be on the naughty list."

"You attack my home?!" North roars, brandishing his swords.

"You didn't get that by the fiery assault?" I mock. "I think we're going to have to work on your deductive reasoning, old man."

"Sparks!" Tooth cries, shooting out of the workshop. She can barely fly. "What are you doing?"

"Playing with fire," I reply, throwing my hands skyward. Clouds appear overhead and lightning begins to flash. But before I can direct it, something slams against me in midair. I tumble backwards, feeling as though I've been hit by a train. A white-haired train with burning blue eyes.

"Hiya, little brother," I say cheerfully, but it's forced, false. But he doesn't know that. "Did you come out to play?"

"Sparks, stop it, dammit!" Jack shouts at me. Ice collects in the air around us. I fight the urge to wince. He's pissed. I haven't seen him this angry in...in a long time.

"Are you the strongest one left?" I ask sweetly. "The others can't come after me themselves?"

"You know that they can't." Jack snarls. "You made it so that they can't."

"Did I?"

"_Stop!_" Jack screams at me, shooting an icy spray at me. I lift a hand and melt the projectiles easily. "Sparks, whatever he's done to you, you need to stop this before it goes any farther." _If it doesn't go any farther they'll kill us both, _I think. I can at least make sure that, if there have to be any casualties, they'll be me, and only me. "Please, Sparks," Jack says, sounding desperate. "Please. You're still my sister under there. That's why you wouldn't fight me before. Please. Just come with me."

"Not an option." I say, turning to him with a smirk. Lightning rains down on the workshop, and bits of it are already on fire. North and Tooth scramble around with the yetis and elves, trying to put them out. As far as distractions go, this one is pretty top-notch, but Jack is still powerful enough to do some damage to Pitch's plan. So, I've got to get him out of here. "You want to know something?" I ask suddenly. I'm going to regret this, but I go on anyway. "About our past? Jack hesitates for a second and I continue. "Actually, it's more about you than me. See, your name? Jack Frost, that's not a coincidence. Our last name wasn't Frost. Want to know why that's what the moon calls you?" I pause. He's going to hate me. "Because that's what people called you. The townsfolk that lives outside our forest, they were the ones who called you frost."

"Why?" Jack asks, the curiosity eating him. I knew that it would.

"Because that's what you were. Frost kills crops and animals, frost damages property, frost is unwanted, frost is unneeded and most of all, frost is useless. They called you that and I guess the moon thought that it fit." Jack looks devastated, but it quickly morphs into anger. Damn if he's not more like me than I thought. And that is not a good thing. But while my anger burns and flares, his is cold and deadly. It's scary as hell, too, coming from a face that I used to wipe dirt off of when Jack fell out of a tree or something.

"That's not true." Jack growls at me, his staff pulling ice out of the air. He's about to throw something big my way. I quickly start to heat, up, darting out of the way of an enormous icy blast Jack sends my way.

"And that wasn't nice, little brother." I return. I fly a little ways off before turning and looking at him. "Oh, come on. You aren't going to come get me? And here I was, thinking that we were family."

"Dammit Sparks!" Jack shouts, chasing after me. I take off, leaving the lightning storm raging above the North Pole. It's something else to worry about, but I think I can multitask. I hope I can. I swoop left and right, bits of ice melting off of the heat that rolls off of me in waves. I'm burning too hot for any of his attacks to get to me. But that doesn't mean that I can't hear him.

"You're my sister!" Jack yells as he chases me through the air. "You're supposed to look after me; we're supposed to be there for one another. You betrayed me, you betrayed all of us! What about Sandy? Pitch kills him, and then you turn around and take _his _side?!" I flinch at that one, closing my eyes for only a moment. I don't want to think about Sandy. As soon as we're far enough away I turn around, preparing to vanish. Pitch has no doubt started his own attack by now, and is tearing the Pole apart. I've done my share; it's time for me to go now.

But I can't. Just as I turn, Jack constructs an icy wall around the two of us. He pours magic into it just as I start to emanate heat. He's not going to back off, I can see that in his eyes, and if he'll burn himself out of magic before I do. I was created to be stronger than him, even without belief. So instead of waiting for him to pass out from trying to freeze me, I turn off the heat for a moment and put out the fires in my skin and hair.

"Yes?" I ask silkily, in a tone I picked up from Pitch. "Clearly you wanted to say something." I tap the wall of the icy cage, watching a bit of it melt and Jack scramble to refreeze it. He's good at making snowballs, my brother, but not at keeping someone who's core temperature rivals that of the sun encased in ice. Then again, my core temperature has seemingly increased as my powers have. The cold used to make me deathly ill, now it just melts away in my presence. Regardless, though, I cool off.

"What is wrong with you?" Jack asks, sounding desperate. "Did he hurt you? Threaten you? You saw what we did together, we can take him!" I know we can. But I can't let that happen.

"Did you ever stop to think," I drawl, "that Pitch isn't making me do anything? Maybe I was tired of cleaning up your messes, Jackie."

"I was alone." Jack says quietly, but his eyes are still burning brightly, and never leave mine. "I was alone for three hundred years. No one could see me. No one cared about me. Then I find out that you were there _the entire time_. You knew who I was and what I had to be going through, but you ignored it! You ignored me for three-hundred years! I was _alone!_"

"You don't know the first thing about being alone," I hiss, genuinely this time. "And bullshit. No one cared about you? Who do you think kept you from turning the world into your own icy playground? Me! Do you know what the cold does to me, Jack?"

"I bet you'll tell me." Jack shoots at me and that just pisses me off even more. He has no right to complain to me about being lonely, being left behind, being without someone to take care of me. All I've ever done is take care of him! Damned if I do, because clearly he damns me now, and damned if I don't, because the Guardians will kill him if I don't stop them!

"It makes me sick. It kills me. Do you know what it feels like to be _dying _for three-hundred years? Not fun, Jack!"

"Then why didn't you come to me! I was alone! You _left _me alone for three centuries! That was hell!"

"No!" I scream at him in earnest and Jack looks surprised. "No! Three-hundred years is a vacation! I would've killed to only have been alone for three-hundred years because do you know what I was doing, while you were frozen in that pond?" I'm saying too much, I'm giving too much away, but I can't stop myself. "I was waiting for you to wake up! Do you know how long I waited for you, Jack? _Nine. Hundred. Years._ Now, add that to the three-hundred that I spent keeping you safe. Once you've lived for over twelve-hundred years, all on your own, then you can come and bitch to me about loneliness." Jack stops for a moment, his mouth dropping open slightly.

"Twelve-hundred..." he gapes, choking on the words. "You were alone?"

"Ding-ding," I mock. "Give the in the hoodie gentleman a prize." I smile at him, but it's raw and angry, and doesn't meet my eyes. "I think I should be congratulated also," I say, playing with a bit of fire. "I mean, how many people do you know who can spend over a century completely alone, unseen, and still be as sane as I am? Relatively speaking, of course."

"But...we're together now." Jack whispers. "You don't have to be alone anymore."

"You picked the wrong side, little brother." I say, beginning to heat up again. I can see Jack's eyes tighten with concentration as he tries to keep the wall erect. "Come with me," I blurt out of nowhere. Oops. Not the plan, but I realize that it's what I want. I don't want to fight Jack; I want him to be with me, even if it's with Pitch. That way he's safe and we're together. "Please, Jack, it's not safe for you here." Telling him the truth hurts more than lying. "Please." But Jack recoils from me, as if he would never even consider coming with me. Like the idea is abhorrent to him. Which it probably is. But he doesn't know the danger he's in, and he doesn't know that Pitch has promised to keep him safe, and he's already saved me twice. Jack doesn't know these things and I can't tell him, and dammit if that doesn't make me angry enough to cause a volcanic eruption.

"You've got to be kidding me." Jack says. "Join with Pitch? He killed Sandy!"

I'm done. I touch the wall of the icy cage and it melts away instantly. I fly off and Jack follows me, shouting at me to come back with him. He still hasn't given up on me and that hurts the most.

Suddenly, I hear sleigh bells and whirl around. North and Co. fly through the air in an admittedly beat-up and scorched-looking sleigh, all weapons raised.

Oh, hell.

I keep flying, trying to weave around Jack and the rest of the Guardians, but they tag-team like the worst kind of schoolyard bullies. Where the hell is Pitch when I need him? I whistle through my teeth and Fyra appears, raining fire down on the Guardians but that doesn't stop them. They're pissed and out for blood. My blood.

"I think you're sleigh's seen better days, fat man!" I call back to North, laughing spitefully when I see his face redden. Tooth tries to out-fly me, but she's so weak that her wings barely work anymore and she can't get more than a few feet away from the sleigh. I sent Fyra to spook the reindeer, and while I'm concentrated on that, Jack flies up behind me, in between me and the sleigh. He throws up every ounce of ice he can muster, trying to box me in, but none are weapons, and none are supposed to hurt me. Even after everything, after everything I just screamed at him, Jack still believes in me, he still thinks that I can be helped. He is so wrong.

I burn through his icy walls easily, even as he rebuilds them.

"Stop, Jack," I warn him in earnest. "You're going to hurt yourself!" He ignores me, his face growing paler the more ice he sends my way. "Jack, stop!" As the words leave my lips, several things happen at once and the world seems to slow down. I see Jack's face tight with the effort of keeping me contained, but beyond that, Fyra has spooked the reindeer so badly that the sleigh can barely fly. North has thrown one of his swords in a last-ditch effort to get to me, maybe to keep me from hurting Jack, maybe to kill me, I don't know. I trace the swords' trajectory, and my eyes go wide with shock and horror. It's not going to hit me.

It's going to hit Jack.

Time speeds again and I dart forward, screaming wordlessly. I manage to push Jack out of the way before the sword impales him. But something hits me in the back and sends me flying head-over-heels through the air. There is an instant of spine-weakening agony and I see the horror that had just been in my eyes reflected on Jack's face.

I look down and see the slightly-curved blade poking out of my chest, like a sewing needle out of a voodoo doll. Gold blood leaks from my mouth, staining my lips like cheap, tacky lipstick. I look up again, and I think Jack is screaming my name, but I can't hear anything anymore. I reach out my hand for him, mouthing: _I'm sorry_, before I start to fall.

The wind rushes past me and I can see my own golden blood spiraling into the air like smoke. I must look like a falling star, all fire and red and gold. As I fall, I feel moisture on my cheek and it's not blood. It's tears. My tears. They turn into diamonds as soon as they leave my skin and fall with me; the last diamonds I'll ever make, I guess. I hope Pitch can win without me. I hope he keeps his promise to look after my little brother.

My eyes flutter closed and I am gone before I hit the ground.

* * *

**I would like to thank each and every one of you for following/liking/reviewing this story. I had no idea that it would get the reaction that it has, and I am honored. I can only hope that you all are enjoying reading it, because I love writing it for you.**

**~Fae**


	15. Chapter 15

"Sparks?" At first, I don't think that the voice is real. I think that I'm imagining it. Can one imagine something when they're dead? I don't know, but as I open my eyes, I realize that this isn't what I thought the afterlife would be like. There is no pain, and my body isn't completely mangled from the sword and the fall; but then again, I didn't even think that there _was_ an afterlife for the twice-dead, let alone something that looks suspiciously like a dream-space. I turn left and right, but I don't see anything.

"Sparks." The voice comes again, and something materializes in the corner of my eye. Something golden.

"Sandy?" I murmur, my mouth dropping open. It is him and he looks just like I remember, smiling, golden, and constantly shaking dream-sand off of himself. The Sandman nods, looking happy to see me. My cheeks burn with shame.

"It's so good to see you again, Sparks," Sandy says. I cock my head with confusion: I can hear a voice saying my name, but his lips don't move. It is, undoubtedly, Sandy's voice; it fits him, though I can't see how he's talking without talking. His mental voice is warm and kind, and doesn't condemn or judge.

"How are you talking?" I ask. There is so much I want to say, but that's the only thing that I can think of on short notice.

"This is my realm," Sandy says without saying. "Dreams and such." He waves his hand nonchalantly and smiles at me.

"I'm sorry," I say quickly, ducking my head down so that my hair covers my eyes. I want to go on, but there is too much that I have to apologize for. I clamp my mouth shut, unable to articulate myself at all. Seeing him makes my chest clench with guilt. I did this. I didn't save him. I couldn't save him, and now we're both dead.

"You did what you thought was right," Sandy says softly. "None of us could've asked for more than that." Sandy smiles comfortingly and touches my arm. I flinch away from him. I don't deserve his kindness. There is an intake of breath in my mind, as if Sandy is about to say something else, before the dream-space rattles and quakes. My eyes flick upwards and Sandy's do as well. "There isn't much time," he says, as if he knows what's happening. That would make one of us.

"What is that?" I ask nervously, my hair lighting up. The weird half-world shakes again.

"The dream is becoming unstable," Sandy says calmly. "We don't have a lot of time. Sparks, I – " He flickers in and out of focus, like the picture on an old television set, before he winks out of sight completely. The dream-space goes dark for a moment, as if he had been the one keeping it lit. But he said that this was a dream, not the afterlife. How can that be? North's sword went _through _me. There's no way I could've survived that. I'm tough – I survived centuries of living with an illness that might've killed me – but not that tough.

"Sandy!" I shout, whirling around, and my voice bounces back at me. "Sandy!" He blurs back into golden focus again, looking urgent this time.

"The diamonds," Sandy flickers back to life again, quickly, only for a moment, before he disappears again and only his voice remains. "Look – the diamonds – " The whole dream rumbles as though it's trapped within an earthquake and the walls begin to crumble.

"Sandy!" I yell again, but my voice is lost. The dream-space is coming apart and I can do nothing to stop it. My hair burns brighter and I begin to glow in my fear, but the fire isn't going to keep the dream together. Voices begin to ring in the background, but I can't discern what they're saying, not one. The walls of the half-world blur together and I feel them closing in on me.

"Sparks!" I know that voice. "Sparks!" The shout is so powerful that it shatters the dream into a thousand pieces and then it dissolves altogether.

* * *

"Sparks, please," the voice that I know says desperately. "Please, _please, _wake up." I hurt. Pain wracks my body and I feel hopelessly broken. I don't know where I am, but I am undoubtedly alive. I don't know how, but I am.

"Stop," I mumble, not opening my eyes.

"Sparks!" the voice shouts in my face. I want to flinch away from the loud noise, but I can't move.

"Stop yelling at me," I mutter. "Too…loud."

"Thank God. "Pitch, I remember his voice now. It's Pitch. Though my eyes are closed, I begin to make myself more aware of my surroundings. It's dark, that's for sure. No light leaks under my eyelids. It's dark and quiet, except for Pitch's shouting. Arms cradle my head and neck, and cold fingers stroke my face. "Sparks, you're alive."

"You're still shouting," I murmur. I crack my eyes just a little and I see Pitch looking down on me, his skin ashy and paler than usual. His yellow-black eyes are dark – darker – with worry.

"I thought that they'd killed you," Pitch says, his normally smooth voice broken and cracked.

"Me too, actually," I admit. Despite everything, my lips manage to twitch upwards into a tiny, tiny smile. "What's wrong, Boogeyman? Scared for… little old me?" Pitch doesn't smile back, just hugs me closer.

"Don't do that to me ever again," Pitch says shakily. "Never again, you understand me?"

"Yes, mother," I mumble. I feel myself nodding off. Not dying, just tired. If I'm alive than I'll heal. It may take a while, but I will survive this.

* * *

Pitch, it appears, has a different opinion. From the moment that I woke up, he's been there, nursing and hovering and being altogether very annoying.

"Pitch," I say, two weeks after my miraculous survival. He's hiding in the shadows, but I've come to recognize the chill in the air that always accompanies his dark magic. "You're lurking again." I'm not healed, not completely, not even close, but I can walk, fly, and have retained most of my magical abilities. Thank God for that. At the beginning, I could barely keep myself warm enough to stay breathing. Which probably had something to do with Pitch's rapid relocation. We've momentarily abandoned the underground caves that used to be our hideaway. Actually, when my heart began to give out, Pitch took matters into his own hands and tossed me into an active volcano. Needless to say, it was warm enough, and that's where we've remained. I haven't been outside in over a fortnight and I'm starting to go stir-crazy.

"I don't think that you should leave quite yet." Pitch says, appearing from a shadow along the wall of the mountain. "It's not safe."

"I'm okay," I say, fighting not to roll my eyes. Pitch is taking his role as Florence Nightingale a little too seriously. "Promise." Lie. I still have trouble breathing sometimes and too much magic makes me tired and weak, but if I don't get out soon, I'm going to cause a volcanic explosion.

"I'll come with you," Pitch offers. I shake my head.

"I was alone for a long time," I say gently. "Sometimes, I still need to be by myself. I'll be invisible and the Guardians think I'm dead, so it'll be fine." Pitch hesitates for a moment before he finally nods.

"At least take Fyra with you," he says. I agree readily, and take to the air, flying through the chamber of molten lava until I see the starts for the first time in what feels like forever. It's been two weeks, but it's felt so much longer than that. I whistle for Fyra and she appears by my side in an instant, nickering softly. From the very little that Pitch has told me, when I hit the ground, it was Fyra who kept me warm enough to stay alive before Pitch came. It was all very fast, but it had had to be: If it had taken Pitch another thirty seconds to come to my rescue, I would've died for sure.

"Hey there," I say softly, stroking her nose. "Thanks for looking out for me." Fyra whinnies and I dismiss her quietly. I want to be completely alone; Sandy's message still weighs in my mind. It's been the same both times: The diamonds. Always something to do with the diamonds. And I've got a sinking suspicion that it has to do with the future-sight that I've developed of late. But how they're connected, I haven't a clue. I form a diamond between my fingers and fiddle with it. It's pretty, sure, but it doesn't do anything, or mean anything.

"Dammit, Sandy," I whisper to the empty sky. "What were you trying to tell me?" No answer falls from the heavens, or reveals itself as a glowing pictograph.

I fly aimlessly through the air, occasionally throwing fireballs across the sky and watching them fall to the ground like comets. I'm not as strong as I was before…but I've been so much weaker. No complaints – at least I'm alive. As I fly, I begin to recognize the landmarks around me. This is where I fell. I shudder, remembering the pain, but I can't bring myself to leave. I was going to have to face this sooner or later, and I'd prefer it be over rather than haunting me. Settling on a tree-branch, I take a deep breath, reliving my fall. But as I look out where I almost died, glittering images flash in my mind's eye. I see dozens of other possibilities that might have unfolded, but the one that stands out the most makes me feel sick. I see Jack being impaled instead of me, and then falling to his death. He wouldn't have survived. Jack would've died, no doubt about it. I've always been the heartier twin, especially since we both died. I know that these are shadows of what might have been, but I know immediately as the last image fades from my vision that I wouldn't have changed anything. If what I saw was correct, then my getting stabbed is the only way that everyone would've lived.

Jack, especially. If they'd killed him, I saw myself being caught by the Guardians, fighting and dying in order to take my revenge. And I saw Pitch tearing the world apart for vengeance of his own. I shake my head, trying to dispel the visions, and notice a large diamond that's formed in my hands. I look hard at it, frowning. I think that I can see something moving within the heart of the stone. I blink, realizing that what I see are the images of all of the possibilities that just flashed through my mind. They're all here, contained within the stone. All of the possibilities, all of the change.

I almost drop the diamond when the realization hits me: _Change_. That's the only constant that there's ever been in my life. Jack changed into a spirit and into someone that I didn't recognize, someone capable of murder; I changed – I died – to save him, and in doing so, turning into someone I never imagined being. I had to change him back.

I don't just see future, I realize, thinking back. I saw the boy's past too, back when I was in his bedroom, the first time the future unfolded in front of me; I just never noticed.

I hear a noise below me and this time I do drop the stone and it sails through the air. I wince as I hear violent swearing as the diamond hit someone down on the ground, and then freeze. I know that voice, and it's not Pitch this time.

It's Jack. I know that I'm invisible to him, but even so, I duck behind the thick leaves of the tree that I'm sitting in, trying not to make any noise.

"What the hell?" Jack growls, rubbing the back of his head. He picks up the diamond and his already-pale skin grows paler, something I never thought possible. I flinch and look beyond him, feeling myself go cold when I see a small headstone made out of ice in the exact place where I fell. Wilted flowers stand at its base and there are roses in Jack's hand, albeit frostbitten ones. Jack turns the stone around in his hand and looks up to where I am. I don't move a muscle, but can't help see his eyes full with tears. Shit. Before I can do something I'll regret – or he will – I leap skyward, the tree barely rustling as I go. But even so, I can't block out Jack's voice, screaming my name into the night.

And for the second time in a fortnight, I find myself wiping tears off of my cheeks, I who never cried, not once, in over a century. As Jack's voice echoes after me I turn back, only for a second.

"I'm sorry Jack," I whisper. "For everything." Diamonds drop to the earth as my tears crystallize, and I wonder what possibilities they hold. Hopefully, one exists where Jack and I are together.

But I doubt it.

* * *

**Okay, I know that this is late, and for that, I sincerely apologize. But I had to make it worthwhile, and I actually made myself very sad writing the ending. **

**So, brilliant readers, what do you think of Sparks' gift, the gift of change? And please, share your thoughts about the story overall, I am eager to hear what you have to say.**

**~Fae**


	16. Chapter 16

I don't know what possesses me to keep flying around. I should head straight back to the volcano.

But I've made so many shitty decisions lately, I figure that one more won't hurt. I zip through the air, burning through clouds and leaving a fiery trail in my wake. It doesn't take long to get to North's workshop. As soon as the fortress is in sight I stop dead, frozen. What used to be a gleaming architectural wonder is now nothing more than a smoking ruin. Pitch's and my attack worked out – the Pole is no more. It's a shell.

I land and make my way around the ruins, quietly putting out fires. There is truly nothing left. The yetis and elves are gone – I hope that they survived. I know that North and Toothiana are hiding out on Easter Island. It's not exactly flowering right now, but it's the safest place for them. I don't know what Pitch has in mind, but as far as I can tell, we've won. The world is his, and I can already feel the difference in the air. The change in tangible. Maybe just to me, but still, it's there. I almost trip over what's left of North's globe. It's dark, except for a single, solitary light that flickers in and out of focus. A little light in Oregon, and I think I know who it belongs to. Jamie.

Slowly, I walk over to the twisted remains of the globe and put my hand on it. Not fire, not electricity, but something else courses through the metal structure and it combusts, shooting a pillar of fire into the sky. Sparks and flaming debris fall onto the remains of the Pole, and it doesn't take long for the fire to catch. I should put it out. I don't want Pitch to know that I was here. Or do I? This is my tribute to the Guardians. I didn't hate them as individuals – they did what they did in order to survive. And so did I. I just made sure that I came out on top.

Maybe, I think as the fire ravages what is left of the Pole, the flames with make the earth new again, similar to what happens during forest fires. Maybe it will burn away the refuse and debris and allow the ground beneath healthy and livable again.

Maybe.

* * *

I speed through the air. There's something else I have to do. One last, good thing. I have to take care of the last light. Jamie still believes, which puts him at the top of Pitch's list and that, especially now, is not a safe place to be.

I flit from one window to another until I find his and ghost through the walls. His bedroom looks just like I remember, except there are more crayon-drawings on the walls now: Drawings of North, Bunny, Tooth, and Sandy. I stare at them for a moment before I turn away, shame building in my heart. I fly over Jamie's bed – he's sleeping peacefully. No nightmares, like the others. Like the rest of the world. Suddenly, his eyes snap open and I yelp and shoot upwards, lodging myself in the ceiling.

"Holy…" I murmur, trying to catch my breath. It's almost funny. I'm one of the two most powerful mythos in the world, and one kid almost stopped my heart. I've got to keep it together. I slowly float back down into Jamie's bedroom, trying to keep my body temperature low – it spikes when my heart-rate increases.

"Santa?" Jamie murmurs sleepily, rubbing his eyes. "Easter Bunny?"

"Not their names, kid," I say aloud. I know he can't hear me, but it helps. "Jamie…look, you're a sweet kid. Clearly, you're one of Jack's favorites…" I trail off, my eyes falling on Jamie's picture of his epic sleigh ride, courtesy of my little brother. "Which is good enough for me. But you believe in the Guardians, kid. That's dangerous. They're dying out, all of them. Your belief is the only thing that can make them strong again, and Pitch will kill you for it." I stop again; I swear that Jamie's eyes have landed on me, just for a moment, but then they slide past me and I know it was just my imagination. Wishful thinking. I lift my hand so that it is level with Jamie's face and close my eyes. I know that this is the last time I can use the last-ditch, memory magic that I don't really even understand, but it's worth it.

Jamie's memories slowly drain into my hand before they filter into a diamond. It's small – his memories aren't extensive – but it glows brighter than any other diamond I've ever created. As soon as I've finished Jamie's head drops onto his pillow and he falls fast asleep.

It's over. Pitch has won. The last memories of the Guardians are with me, now. I ghost through the house, seized by an idea, and rifle through drawers until I find what I'm looking for: A gold chain that almost perfectly matches Jamie's red-and-gold diamond. With a little magic, I fasten the diamond onto the chain and loop it around my neck. The safest place for the memories is with me, and the necklace will serve as a reminder never to forget.

It is all over. I've finished it.

* * *

I spent too much of my energy at the Pole, and taking Jamie's memories, I realize too late, as I am flying high about the ocean. Breathing is difficult – I shouldn't have used that much magic. I begin to lose altitude. I'm going to fall into the water and then I'm screwed for good.

Goddamn.

I light up as much as I can and shoot forward, aiming for whatever land I can find. I thank whoever might be listening that there's a strip of land within the distance that I can fly. I barrel towards it, sinking too quickly and falling too fast to land on my feet. I skid across the grassy ground until I finally come to a stop and simply lay on my back, too drained to move.

"Ow." I mutter. Soon, hear sharp little voices congregating around me and I pry my eyes open.

"New," a pointy green creature pops into my line of vision. A leprechaun. "New!" Apparently they recognize me, and I remember vaguely that I never gave them a name to call me. "Newnewnew!" Others take up the cry and I sit up with a groan. That last burst of speed and fire really left me drained. My head aches and their shrill voices aren't helping. Sharp fingers dig into my skin and I flinch away. Damn leprechauns.

"Stop touching me," I growl, fighting the urge to electrify my skin before I realize that I probably can't. "Stop!" My voice rings with power I don't have and the Little People back away. Liquid drips down my face and I realize that my nose is bleeding.

"Hurt," one of them says quietly, still a respectful distance away. "You're hurt." I nod. "We help?" It's a question, not a statement. I hesitate for a moment: I don't want their help, I don't, but I know that I won't be able to get back to the volcano on my own and the last thing I want is a lecture from Pitch. Again, I nod, and the leprechauns swarm, pointy fingers reaching for mine.

"I can walk." I say, hauling myself to my feet. Even that small action does nothing but compounds the pain in my head and I wince. I shouldn't feel like this – I've survived with little magic before. Then again, this isn't only having a little magic. This is having absolutely none. I might as well be human. I might as well be dead. "Hey!" I protest as one of the little green men claws his way up my clothes and perches on my shoulder.

"We help," he says serenely. I scowl, but don't flick him off my shoulder and within minutes I'm glad that I let him stay. As the leprechauns march me across their land, the air seems to bend around us and we travel much more quickly than I could've ever imagined. I never knew how they did it – appearing and disappearing so quickly. I always just assumed that they had a tunnel system, like Bunnymund. Being wrong in a situation that's not life-or-death is…refreshing.

Soon, our destination looms on the horizon: Stonehenge. I've been here before, but I don't know what an ancient rock formation can do to make me better. The leprechauns stop and gesture me towards the center of Stonehenge, while they spread out along its borders.

"What are you…" I begin, but my words are drowned out by the leprechauns. They chant Pictish words, most of which I don't understand, in voices much too loud for their tiny bodies. As the chanting grows louder and faster, the enormous rocks begin to glow with strange symbols that I've never seen before. Lights begin to flash overhead, becoming brighter and brighter with every passing second.

"Sparks!" My head snaps up, hearing Pitch's voice overhead. He barrels through the air towards me, but slams against a barrier of light that encases Stonehenge. The leprechauns' chanting just grows louder and louder and the light becomes so bright that it is painful. "Sparks!" Pitch's voice is strained and frantic as I am lost inside the bubble of light. I can't see anything. I open my mouth and the light floods in, until I feel as if I'm going to explode. But then, just as the pressure was becoming overwhelming, the light recedes, and I can breathe again.

"Sparks!" Pitch shouts, and a leprechaun screams as he is pulled under a surging wave of darkness. Now unhindered by the light force-field, Pitch unleashes his rage on Stonehenge, and the Little People. The darkness surges forward like the tide, drowning the Little People before they can escape.

"Pitch, stop it!" I yell at him, but he can't hear me. Dammit. I don't think I have the strength, but I have to try something. Before I can think of any kind of magic, I feel myself beginning to heat up, and suddenly I am engulfed in flames. Fire bursts from every pore, so violently that the darkness shrinks back, if only a little.

Holy shit. That wasn't what I had been expecting. I watch as the flames dance across my skin as if they're alive. I've been on fire before, but never like this. This is different.

This is fantastic.

The Little People scramble over one another to hide behind me, seeing that I am the only thing keeping the darkness at bay. I reign in the power until I am no longer an inferno, and sweep out a hand, sending a wave of fire out to stave off Pitch's fear. It passes harmlessly through the leprechauns, but drives the darkness out of Stonehenge.

I rise into the air to face Pitch, keeping the fires burning in case he decides to send another wave of fear at the Little People.

"What the hell?" I demand.

"I could ask you the same, love," he replies heatedly. "They were killing you!"  
"They were saving me," I say, fighting to keep my voice even. Damn, who would have thought that I would have to been the level-headed one? That's a terrifying thought. "I overextended myself, used too much magic. I almost burned out over the ocean. The leprechauns brought me here. They helped me get my magic back."

"How do you know that they did not deceive you?" Pitch demands. I roll my eyes.

"You're just going to have to trust me," I say, but the evidence speaks for itself. I am glowing. I am iridescent. Never, ever, have I ever had this much power. I don't know what kind of magic is locked inside Stonehenge, but clearly some of it went into me. I've never felt like this before. "I can take care of myself, Pitch." Suddenly, Pitch's long arms are wrapped around me, crushing me into a rib-cracking hug.

"I know you can," he murmurs against my shoulder. "But I don't have anyone but you, Sparks." Pitch holds me at arms-length. "You're all I've got. And I…I…nothing can happen to you."

"Nothing will." I promise, getting caught up in Pitch's emotion. "I'm here. I'm with you." I don't know what unseen force prompts me to take his hand in mine, but I do and Pitch stares at me. I smirk at him. I can be affectionate too. Sometimes. "And you've won. It's over." He doesn't question the certainty in my voice and I fight the urge to touch the diamond at my throat.

"_We've_ won." Pitch corrects me, his eclipse-colored eyes glowing bright. I nod.

Then Pitch is kissing me; high above the air, with fire and darkness battling for supremacy all around us. At first I don't know what to do, how to react. But I don't pull away. Below us, the fire finally eradicates the last of the fear.

And I kiss Pitch back.

* * *

**Hello lovelies! I know I went AWOL for a while. I know and I'm so, so sorry for leaving you all in the lurch, and there is no excuse for it, so I won't make any.**

**I sincerely hope this chapter makes up for my lack of updates over the past month. Please tell me what you think!**

**I truly am sorry!**

**~Fae**


	17. Chapter 17

The world is different now. It's not a huge change, and I don't even think that the humans notice it, but it's there. Small changes in the air, the atmosphere, and in people. Life goes on for the humans, but it's altered: Crime runs rampant in cities, and even in communities that have been peaceful. Politicians become more corrupt than usual and normally-kind people have turned bitter and angry. The whole world is overrun with fear, and it's trembling.

My part is smaller, more discreet. Pitch has abided by my wishes to stay anonymous, and the humans don't know my name. While Pitch controls the world's psychology, its physicality falls to me. I've all but given up dream magic, and mostly handle the physical. Storms and other natural disasters are more commonplace now, something that the humans try to pin on global warming. I think that in particular is funny: Blaming the work of an entity of fire on global warming. Humans are so amusing. Volcanoes also erupt more frequently now, though their eruptions seem to coincide to when Pitch and I argue. Which is often enough to keep things interesting, to say the least.

Time flows differently for us now, like it did when I was hunting Jack, back when we were children. I don't know how much time has passed, but the increase started slowly. I would blink and days would have gone by, then weeks, and months. I don't know what triggers the fluctuation, but it doesn't really bother me either. I'm immortal. What are a few years? Nothing, not anymore.

"Good morning," Pitch says cheerfully as I fly up beside him. He pulls on the enormous web of nightmare sand, sending bad dreams flying in every direction. The layout is simple and ingenious: Pitch is the center of the web, constantly fed the fears of the children and adults of the world, and makes adjustments to his web duly. He's still got his army on standby, but the web has proven more efficient. This is where he spends most of his time, though he does occasionally do house-calls. On special occasions, that is. "Ah, Sparks," Pitch says, kissing my cheek. He's in an extraordinarily good mood today. I arch an eyebrow at him curiously.

"You're happy today. Create any spectacular new nightmares lately?" I comment lightly.

"Oh, no, just a little insurrection," Pitch replies happily. My disbelief must show on my face because Pitch laughs, but I have a good reason to be confused. Pitch rules with an iron fist – no one dares to cross him; when he defeated the Guardians, he sent a clear message to every mytho on the planet that if any of them stood against him, they would not only incur his wrath, but that of his secret weapon. Me. Even among the mythological community, however, I am still mainly unknown. I value my invisibility more than any extra power that belief would bring. "There's nothing better than a little opposition, you know." Pitch says. "Keeps things interesting."

"You're insane," I scoff, rolling my eyes.

"One who rules without opposition becomes lazy, love," Pitch says with a gleam in his eye that I both recognize and don't like.

"And let me guess," I say, putting smoking hands on my hips. They'll ignite any second if I'm not careful. "you want me to handle it." Pitch smirks and I take that as a 'yes.' "I am not your errand girl, Pitch Black." I say, pointing a flaming finger at his face. The smile slides off of Pitch's face and he abandons his web for a moment and comes over to me.

"I would never," he says sincerely, placing a hand on my shoulder. "It's just that you've seemed lethargic of late and I thought that you would be anxious to go into the world again. We have been apart for so long…" The flames go out on my hands and I bite my lip.

"I'll go," I say finally. Pitch smiles again. "Just point me in the right direction." Pitch takes my hand and indicates one of the dark strands of his web. It's twitching and looks as if it's getting smaller. I start to fly and Pitch catches my arm.

"If you need me, send up a flare. I'll see it."

"I won't need help." I return. Pitch smiles.

"Of course you won't." He lets go and I fly off, vanishing into the air.

* * *

It doesn't take me long to find the source of the problem with Pitch's nightmare. It's stopped in its tracks, frozen solid. And there's only one spirit I know with the power to freeze a nightmare like that.

Jack. I head up quickly, melting the strand of the nightmare-web. As I work, I feel the temperature around me drop significantly, but my body simply keeps heating, its natural reaction against the cold. I don't even notice, really. Until an icy projectile spears me through the chest. Goddammit, ow! I wince, but I shouldn't. I've trained myself to get used to things passing through me, I've built a tolerance. That shouldn't have hurt. But, I realize, it was _made _to hurt someone invisible, someone like me. I turn around, still invisible, not surprised to see Jack looking a little past where I am. He still can't see me, still thinks I'm dead. I don't know if that's good or not.

"Pitch!" Jack shouts, another spear forming in his hands. I don't know how much time has passed, but Jack looks different. Less like the carefree, if lonely, kid I used to look out for, more like…like a soldier. His bright blue eyes are dark and his face is worn and haggard. What the hell has happened to him? "I know you're out there!" Even his voice has changed: It's deeper and rougher. My God. I should get out of here, I should leave before I do something stupid.

And yet, that's never stopped me before. Jack hurls the second spear in my direction and I flicker into sight, catching the spear with one hand and melting it instantly. Jack's eyes go wide and he backs away from me, almost dropping his staff.

"Ouch." I deadpan. "That wasn't nice."

"S-sparks?" Jack stammers, staring at me.

"Hi, Jack," I reply softly. "It's been a while." I don't actually know that, but I assume.

"But you're dead!" Jack says. "I saw you fall." He shudders involuntarily and my heart drops.

"I survived the fall. I'm very hard to kill, though North did do his damndest" Jack looks pained, but the expression looks natural on his new face. I hate that.

"You've been alive all this time?" I bite my lip. "Eight years, Sparks." I blink. It hasn't felt like eight years, more like a month or so, for me. "It's you." I look up and rage has replaced the relief and hurt on his face. Again, this emotion looks at home in his eyes and it…it scares me. "You're Pitch's weapon, aren't you?" It isn't a question. "How could you do that to the Guardians!" Jack shouts at me. "They're almost dead now, because of _you_!"

"Forgotten is better than dead," I say mildly, touching the diamond pendant at my throat. I don't want to fight with him, not after _eight years _of separation. "I never meant to hurt you Jack." Never.

"Well done." Jack shoots at me. "Do you know what I've been through?" The honest answer is no, I don't. But I don't think that would help anything. "We're fugitives. Rebels. Trying to get the world running the way it's supposed to be again."

"We?" I ask, picking up on the plural quickly. Jack's eyes slide past me and I immediately jump to the defensive, fire bursting from my skin. Odd, humanoid creatures with brightly-colored skin lunge at me. Their eyes are wide-set and their pupils reptilian. Nymphs – dryads, guessing by the colors of their skin. Tree spirits. With pointy weapons.

I don't bother dodging their attacks, but simply allow their weapons and skin to char and bubble as they come too close to me. Dryads don't do well with dry-heat or fire, especially considering their life-forces are tied to trees. One of the dryads, a younger one probably, seeing that her eyes are more human, barrels towards me. I step away easily and her momentum carries her past me. I whirl, seeing that her blade will impale Jack if he doesn't get out of the way.

"Move!" I shout, flying to Jack's side faster than the eye can see and shoving him out of the way. Jack hits the ground hard and I whip around, snatching the dryad by the throat with a fiery hand. Flames dance in my skin and burn in my eyes. The dryad chokes and gasps, trying to get air as I crush her windpipe and her skin begins to bubble and crack from the heat. I'm going to kill her. I know I am, and I don't feel badly.

I'm _excited_. Until I hear Jack's voice from behind me and realize what I'm about to do. I thrust the dryad away from me, quickly making sure she's alive before I turn my gaze on her sisters.

"You okay?" I ask Jack over my shoulder, not turning around. There is no answer. I am about to turn when I am doused with what feels like an ocean's worth of icy water. I spin angrily, practically spitting fire. Seriously? Did they think that a little water was going to do anything to hurt me? The flames on my skin and hair go out, but I start to burn again, before more and more water is poured on top of me in a continuous, icy stream that I can't escape. I can't get hot enough to evaporate it, and every drop I manage to burn off is replaced tenfold. My breathing slows and my heart beats erratically, pounding quickly and then painfully slowly against my ribcage. It can't keep a beat, just like I can't keep myself warm. I feel like I'm having what the humans call a heart-attack. The lack of blood and heat makes my head pound painfully, even while the rest of my body goes numb. I start to lose feeling in my fingers, and the unnatural cold crawls up my arms like an unholy army of insects.

"Stop…Jack…" I say through frozen lips, the air barely making it out of my lungs. It's Jack, I can see that. Jack is super-freezing the water that's pounding against my body at a hundred gallons per second. He's killing me. "Pitch will…kill you….Stop!" But there is no reply, and I don't have the strength for any more words. I wasted the last of my air with those.

Black spots begin to crowd my vision, from lack of oxygen, but I can still spy snakelike eyes peering up at me from the river. Naiads, the water nymphs. Damn. I shouldn't have left my back exposed to the river. And now I'm going to pay for it.

I don't know if the black spots have taken over my vision completely or if I've simply gone blind when the whole world suddenly goes dark. My hearing is going to, fuzzing in and out like bad reception. Something brushes against my numb cheek and I realize that I've fallen down. Rough hands scratch against my skin and I can't feel the grass anymore.

"Don't hurt her!" A voice I know but can't place says urgently. I try to concentrate, but can't seem to be able to. My mind is too foggy and my hearing is bad. The voices seem to come from far away, and have to fight their way through static to be heard. But whoever it is, I don't want them to be sad. I might just be imagining the whole thing. I don't know. It could just be all in my head.

I hope it wasn't.

* * *

**Oh goodness a quarrel among the siblings! And I guess we finally found something that hurts Sparks (other than a sword through the chest, but that's a given.)**

**I hope you all enjoyed the chapter, my brilliant readers, and please review and tell me what you think! (Especially about Jack and Spark's changes and the time-jump. I'd love your opinions on that because I tossed that decision around for a while before I wrote it.)**

**~Fae**


	18. Chapter 18

Water. That's the first thing I sense when I wake up: Water, and a lot of it. Too much. I slowly prize my eyes open, blinking repeatedly when I can't see anything. It's completely dark, and I can breathe. I don't know where I am, but I don't think I'm drowning.

A light suddenly appears in my line of vision, only a foot or so away from me. I light my hair immediately, and my fingertips crackle with electricity.

"It's about time you woke up," a naiad says. She's holding the light source in the palm of her hand. "I'd thought you'd died. Hoped, actually." She sneers at me, baring pointed teeth. I lunge for her, but stop short, realizing that the only thing between the two of us is a thin membrane. The skin of a bubble. I am in a bubble.

Underwater. Shit.

"Ah, ah, ah," the naiad taunts me. "Wouldn't want to pop this bubble. I'd put the fires out too, if I were you."

"If you were me," I snap, not putting out the flames, "you would be considerably more powerful and not half as bitchy." The naiad hisses.

"Now, I don't care if you drown, but the carbon dioxide from the smoke you're spewing really wears on the bubble. Fill it up too much and…" she blows her own bubble and pops it. "Bye-bye."

"Swimming isn't an option?" I growl.

"You're under an ice-cap," the naiad says. "And we both know that you're not too fond of the cold." Options race through my head; I don't have many. I'm a prisoner, and Jack…well he's the one who got me here, so I can't count on him for help. I take a deep breath, my decision finalizing. I turn towards the naiad and smile – it's more of a sneer, really – burning brighter and hotter than before. The electricity dancing at my fingertips turns to flame. She wasn't lying – the skin of the bubble begins to stretch and thin. "What are you doing?" the naiad demands. I don't answer. "You'll drown."

"You'll torture and kill me anyway," I reply coldly. "I'll take my chances with the water."

"You can't!" the naiad screeches. "Stop!" I blink at her, and finally oblige.

"Someone wants me alive, then?" I say, raising an eyebrow. "Good to know."

"Why you little – " The naiad shrieks with frustration and slips inside the bubble, somehow manipulating the water so that it doesn't pop. She bares her teeth at me, and her eyes are reptilian in her anger. I just smile, infuriating her further, and she lunges at me. I don't flinch, but simply bring my hand up and tap her chest lightly, sending lightning arcing through her body. She flinches and hisses, flinching away from me so violently that she throws herself out of the bubble. I laugh out loud.

"I'd rethink directly attacking someone who can control lightning when you're anatomy is about ninety-percent water." I say helpfully, smiling broadly. Good think electricity gives off no CO2. The naiad hisses, but doesnt't try to attack me again. Instead, she leaves, taking the light with her. And I'm stuck in the dark.

* * *

Days pass with little change. The currents in the water sometimes shift the bubble to the left or right, but other than that, there is no movement. And despite my efforts to grow used to the dark, it is completely impenetrable. But having the dark clog my senses doesn't seem to be enough – someone or something is blocking what little mind magic I can muster. My connection to Fyra has completely been severed, and since Pitch hasn't come rampaging into this frozen hell, I can assume that whatever is jamming my magic is keeping him from finding me as well.

I am weak, stuck in an icy bubble in the middle of a frigid body of water, unable to use fire for fear of drowning. And without the heat and life that fire provides, I am woefully without power. It's not all bad, though. With my sight all but completely gone, I have to rely on a tiny facet of my abilities that I've never really developed before. I have always had something of "heat-vision." I mean, I can sense the heat signatures given off by almost every living thing, but I've always had my eyes. I've never had to use it before. But now, I've no choice. Slowly, over what feels like an agonizingly long period of time, I begin to piece together a picture of my surroundings. It's not much more than plant life at the muddy bottom of the ocean, but it's more than nothing. I know that a naiad guard is constantly standing watch, over twenty feet away from me, and I can sense it when she chases away any sea creatures that swim too close to my prison.

The other upside is even more unexpected. Pitch has been trying to teach me to extend my power beyond my physical boundaries for…well, years, and I've never got the hang of it. But now, with all of my energy that can't be turned into heat dispersing, I finally manage it. It takes a little practice and a lot of concentration, but within a couple of days, I am able to create diamonds outside the thin walls of my bubble. I use every ounce of energy that's not keeping me alive creating diamonds and dispensing them into the ocean. Soon the jewels litter the muddy ground, and I manage to maintain a connection to each of them. I know that I'm not strong enough to activate them all at once, but they're in position, in case I have to. Maybe I should be grateful for being captured. I would have never even bothered with my newly-developed abilities were it not for my less-than-pleasant stint in captivity.

I'm practicing wielding electricity outside of the bubble when I sense a heat signature akin to a naiad's, but her organs are smaller. She's young. I can feel her heart quicken as she comes closer to my cage. A light suddenly bursts into violent light and I flinch away from it, my eyes taking a long time to adjust after being in the dark for so long.

"I was wondering when they'd send someone for me," I say conversationally when I can finally see. Using my eyes feels awkward after relying solely on heat-vision. "I didn't think they'd send a kid." I can see now that she is considerably younger than the other naiads who've been my jailers before. She looks more human than the others, for one thing. Her pupils are round, though I suspect they'll turn snakelike under pressure. Her

"I'm not a kid!" the naiad snaps, but her voice quivers.

"Yes you are, but you're a kid who has a point," I say. "What is it?"

"I-I have to take you with me!" the naiad girl stutters. "A-and don't try anything, or else I-I'll drown you." I'm not sure who she's trying to convince.

"Duly noted," I say, nodding. I brace myself as the bubble begins to move through the icy water. It takes me a moment to get used to the swaying motion. Seasickness is not something I've ever had the misfortune of experiencing before. As we travel, the naiad keeps casting frightened looks back at me, like I might spontaneously combust at any moment. There's something different about her, and it's not just that she's young. There's power in her, and an incredible aptitude for change. I don't have much more time to analyze because my prison stops moving suddenly. We've reached our destination. A giant wall of ice. Goodie.

Somehow, she manipulates both the ice and the bubble so that both open at the same time, allowing me to step into what I realize now is a glacier without getting wet. We're still underwater, so there's no chance that I can fly away, and I don't think I can manage to stay invisible with my body temperature as low as it is. The naiad snarls as I light my hair on fire and I turn to her, palms raised. Flaming, but raised.

"What are you doing!" she demands, her canine teeth elongating. I always forget that naiads have retractable fangs. Maybe they're where the human notion of vampires comes from.

"I need to get warm," I explain calmly. "Or else I'll go into a catatonic state and then I'm no good to anyone." Myself, especially. "I'm inside of an iceberg, too cold to fight, and underwater." I remind her. "I don't exactly have the advantage here."

"J-just don't try anything!" she stammers through her elongated teeth.

"Promise." She backs off slightly and starts marching me through the glacier, walking slightly behind me. As we go deeper in I have to burn hotter and hotter. It's freezing and I already feel ill. There's something…unnatural about the iceberg. It doesn't feel right. And somehow, it also feels so familiar. "What's your name?" I ask after we've been trekking for a while in tense silence.

"Sifa," she answers immediately before stopping short. "I shouldn't have told you that."

"I won't tell anyone," I promise. "My name's Sparks. Not really though. I don't know my real name."

"You don't?" Sifa says after a long pause, her voice quiet and still-quivering.

I shake my head. "No, I don't. I…I died a long time ago. A very, very long time ago. I'm over a thousand years old, and all that time, I never had a name." I don't know why I'm telling her this. Maybe because she seems so scared of me. Maybe because I don't want her to think that I'm a monster. Maybe because I don't want to _be_ a monster, and if I can convince this extraordinary naiad that I'm not evil, I won't be.

"You're a thousand years old? Everyone must seem like kids to you."

"A little," I admit. "Not you though."

"I'm young, like you said. I'm the youngest one here."

"You're powerful," I counter. "More powerful than the others. Is that why they had you come and get me?"

"They don't let me do anything," Sifa says quietly. "They didn't even want me here. They treat me like I'm nothing."

"They're scared of you." I know the feeling. I used to be afraid of my own power, and with good reason. I'm dangerous when I'm powerful. "That's why they're treating you badly. They're afraid of your power, and what you can do."

"How did you get your name?" Despite her fear, Sifa seems curious and her heart isn't pounding as hard.

"My brother named me. He thought it was fitting," I say, lightning sparking on my fingers and in my smile. "We got separated for a long time, and when he found me again – " I spy a group of naiads all brandishing spears and other pointy objects coming towards us. They look angry. "Sifa," I say in a low voice. "I'm going to attack you. Fight me."

"What?" she says, her eyes going wide. I don't answer; instead I engulf myself in red flames and lunge at her. The other naiads shout and rush to her aid, but Sifa doesn't need her help. Her eyes flatter and become reptilian and she makes a pulling movement with her hand. In an instant a torrent of water falls on my head from the ice above. The flames licking my skin go out immediately and I struggle to stay standing and keep the grin off of my face. Good going kid.

"Private Sifa," one of the naiads says, stabbing at her with her spear. I grab the shaft and set it on fire before the other soldiers grab my hands and wrench them behind my back. I can't help it: I send electricity coursing through their bodies and both fly away from me, shrieking. Sifa jumps up and liquefies more ice, dumping what feels like a metric ton of water on my head. More naiads swarm around me, pulling my head back by my hair and holding my arms.

"Don't try anything," Sifa snarls, and I don't. In fact, I laugh.

"If I get to choose whose prisoner I am, I pick her," I snigger. The naiad holding my hair yanks it back and I growl, but don't zap her.

"Shut up," one of them hisses at me through elongated teeth. "Private, are you alright?"

"I'm fine." Sifa responds. The naiads nod and turn me around, forming a wall of bristly sea-spirits all around me. I meet Sifa's gaze and wink at her before the naiads wheel me away. I just have enough time to see the surprised look on her face before I am pulled out of sight. They won't treat her like a kid anymore.

The naiad warriors resume the march through the iceberg, but they're less interested with talking than Sifa. In fact, the company is downright terrible. They don't say a word as we walk and I get colder and colder. Finally, they lead me to an icy cavern and one of the naiads shoves me inside. I stumble forward before whipping around sending a comet of fire streaking at the warrior who pushed me. The others scream at me and brandish their weapons but a command from within the cavern stops them short.

"Dismissed," he says. I know that voice.

"Well little brother," I say, "this is one hell of an operation." He doesn't look at me, instead he stares straight ahead at the wall of ice in front of him.

"Did they hurt you?" Jack asks, still not looking at me.

"I'm fine." I say shortly. "What are you _doing _here, Jack? What the hell are you trying to achieve?"

"We're trying to survive." Jack says coldly. "We're trying to get the world working the way that it used to again."

"You won't win," I say. "You can't save them, Jack. Pitch will find you, and he'll kill them all." I want to shake him. He has no idea the kind of danger he's putting himself in. Everything I've done to keep him out of harm's way, and here he is, jumping back into the line of fire. "Why am I here, Jack?" I demand.

"I wanted you to see what you and Pitch created. I wanted you to see that we're still trying to fix it."

"And the watery reception?" For the first time, Jack looks at me. He smiles ruefully but it doesn't meet his eyes.

"You're stronger than I am. Always have been. I couldn't take any chances."

"I think you underestimate me, little brother," I growl, but for all my combativeness, I don't want to fight him, and I think he knows it.

"Please, Sparks," he says. "I just want you to see." I move to stand beside him and he waves his hand at the wall in front of us and the opaque ice turns glassy, revealing a hive of activity far below us. The iceberg is far more massive that I had imagined. I don't know how Jack is maintaining it, truthfully. Far below us, all kinds of mythos scurry about, running or flying from one task to another. I see naiads, leprechauns, even an elf or two among the teeming mass. Despite the busy atmosphere, however, there is a taint in the air. They're all miserable, I realize. The hive reeks of desperation. If Pitch ever found this place…I shudder, thinking about it. This would be a feast for him, all this fear.

"What do you want me to say?" I snap, turning away, overwhelmed. I don't want to look anymore. I don't want to face what I helped create.

"I want you to say that you'll help us. The world is broken and no one believes anymore. Not even Jamie." Jack says earnestly. "I want you to say that you'll stay." Jamie…I touch the jewel at my throat and it pulses as if with a heartbeat. I haven't thought of him in so long. My eyes wander down to the hive again, just as one of the yetis looks up. I know him – North and Jack called him Phil. The yeti's eyes don't flash with anger, just with recognition, and he drops his head, looking more miserable than before. I close my eyes for a moment and turn to my brother, hair flaming brighter than before.

"You have thirty minutes to get everyone out of here." I grab his arm and steam rises where fire meets ice. "Jack, do you hear me? Half an hour, and then this part of the ocean will be nothing but a crater. Get everyone out of here and stay under the radar, for the love of God." I whirl away from him and exhale fire onto the ice-wall, melting a hole big enough for me to fly through. The mythos in the hive scream and panic when they see me. I don't know if they know who I am, or they're just unaccustomed to sudden violence in their hideout. I drink in their fear like Pitch has taught me and dart through the air. I have to find someone.

"Sifa!" I shout, finally glimpsing the young naiad. She whirls around and flashes bared fangs at me. "Kid, hey, don't freak out." I say abruptly, catching her arm. She flinches. "I'm not going to hurt you. This place is moving. You've got thirty minutes to get out of here, alright? Spread the word." Sifa nods, her eyes reptilian and fearful. I press a small diamond into her webbed hand. "Stay safe, Sifa," I say, and shoot off into the chaos before she can utter a sound. I fly straight up, using the fear around me to burn hot and bright, blowing straight through the iceberg and into the open air. I streak through the night like a comet, seeking warmer skies. I am rattled, to my core, but Jack reminded me of something, and I keep that in the forefront of my mind. If I think of him, or everyone trapped in the iceberg because of the world I created, I'm afraid it will undo me.

So, for now, there's something I have to do. There's someone I have to see.


	19. Chapter 19

I don't fly towards my destination just yet. Instead, I throw myself straight upward, up through the clouds. I need energy, and I need power. Fear is garbage – it will do in a pinch, but it's long-term sustenance. That, I can only get from a few sources, and there aren't any volcanos floating around the Arctic Circle as far as I know. So, the sun is my next best choice. I break through the cloud barrier and feel the warm rays on my skin, and let out a breath that I didn't know I was holding. I float, basking in the warmth of the sun, miles above the earth. I know that Jack won't come looking for me. He'll be too busy moving his army. And speaking of which…I close my eyes and channel the sun's energy into my own. Slowly but surely I reopen the connection with my diamonds on the bottom of the sea and activate them all at the same time. Through each one, I can see a hundred different images all at the same time. Jack is gone. He and his naiads and refugees have fled. They're not in the blast zone. I exhale, and then set each diamond off. I can't see the explosion from where I am, high above the sea, but I feel the connection with each diamond sever as they ignite and are destroyed. Within seconds there is nothing left there, just a crater in the ocean that is quickly refilled by the surrounding seawater.

All of the jewels are gone – all but one. The one I gave Sifa. I can still see through it; she hasn't gotten rid of it. Smart kid. I like knowing that I can check in on Jack, and undoubtedly Sifa will be promoted, what with the way she handled me back in the glacier. Hopefully, she'll stay close to Jack so I can keep an eye on him. I push those thoughts away, though, and swoop down below the clouds and quickly fly to a place I haven't thought of in a long time: Jamie Bennett's house.

I recognize the street when I get there, but it seems different. There are no toys littering the lawns, or bikes knelt on sidewalks. Everything looks barren, empty. It's unsettling. I ghost through the walls of Jamie's bedroom, quickly casting a shield around myself that will keep Pitch from finding me, at least for a little longer. I need to see what I did, those eight years ago. I need to see how Jamie grew up.

I expect the changes, but that doesn't mean that they don't make me unhappy. The bedroom is completely changed. Instead of hand-drawn pictures of his imaginative adventures, Jamie has plastered black and gray posters all over his formerly-blue walls. They're black now. Everything in his room is black, or shades of it. The boy himself is nowhere to be seen, but I can see nothing that reminds me of the kid that I knew and Jack favored. He's gone.

"Jesus Sophie, I told you to stay out of my shit!" I launch myself into the ceiling at the sudden voice – old habits die hard. When I finally peek down below, my mouth nearly drops open in shock. I anticipated him being taller, but now Jamie towers over both Jack and I. His long brown hair falls in front of his eyes, so thick that I don't know if he can even see. He's lanky and long-limbed, and walks with a slouch. Jamie slams the door to his bedroom so hard one of his posters falls to the ground. He swears and kicks at it, but doesn't put it back up in its place. Jamie flops onto his bed – his feet hang off of the edges, he's so tall – and sticks black earbuds into ears hidden by his hair.

"Jamie," I say quietly, "I am so sorry." For once, I wish a human could see me. I touch the diamond at my throat; it pulses faster, the memories straining to be free. I did this to him. I took his childhood from him; made him into this sullen, angry teenager. What would Toothania think of me? I wonder absently, and my stomach clenches. She always looked after childhoods. She would have fought me tooth and nail for Jamie's, if she's been able to. But Pitch and I had stopped her before she ever had the chance. I took his childhood and there was no one there to stop me.

_He's eighteen now_, I realize with a start. He's my age, or at least the age I was when I died. To me, he looks ancient and infantile at the same time. I exhale a gust of warm wind and Jamie's eyes snap up. I freeze, but his eyes pass over me, just like they did with he was a child.

"I'm sorry," I say one more time, and then fly out the window. I don't think I can handle any more today. I make for Pitch's fortress as fast as I can, barely withholding tears and crashing through the rotting bed and into the tunnels. Pitch's security system activates and a wall of nightmares rises up to stop me, but I pay it no mind, flaming through it with no problem.

"Stop!" Pitch's voice thunders through the caverns, coming from everywhere at once and I almost break down. He is everywhere and nowhere, and I can see his golden-black eyes glaring at me, the intruder. I heed his words, stopping dead in my tracks and hovering slightly above the ground, encased in fiery armor.

"Pitch," I say softly, my voice precariously close to breaking. Pitch blinks and all of the menace vanishes.

"Sparks," he says, embracing me like the fire isn't even there. At his touch the flames are doused and he hugs me closer. "Thank God, Sparks," he murmurs against my hair. "Thank God." Despite everything, I fold against his chest and bury my face in his chest. Despite everything, despite everything we've done and everything that I've ruined, here, in his arms, I feel safe.


	20. Chapter 20

"Sparks, please talk to me," Pitch says, hovering in the shadows. He's been doing that a lot lately – hovering. I haven't said a word about what happened and he hasn't asked, but I know that it's killing him. I don't want to talk about it, mostly because I don't trust myself. If I give up too much, he'll kill Jack's little resistance in half an hour. So, I've opted to just stay silent about it. I practice magic, I set off volcanoes, I try to get stronger, but I don't talk about it. I know it's been killing him, but Pitch has been good about not asking me any questions. Well, he's been good until now. "I can't…I can't bear not knowing what happened to you."

"I'm okay, I promise," I say, trying to concentrate. I'm still shit at mind magic.

"You've been promising, but I can't stop thinking about it." I wish he would. "Sparks, if they hurt you."

"_They _are all dead now," I say curtly. I need to be careful, I know that, but I have to give him something. I'm surprised that Pitch has lasted this long. Patience is not one of his virtues. I blink and a diamond materializes a few feet away from me and hovers in midair. "Rebels, like you said. I was jumped and almost froze to death. They kept me underwater, under a polar ice cap, cold enough that I couldn't break free, but not cold enough to kill me. I made these, scattered them in the water and when I had the opportunity…" I nod at the diamond and it ignites. Pitch melts away and the explosion passed right through him, but I welcome the heat. "They won't be bothering you anymore." I say, my voice cold and detached. The lies come easily and Pitch has no reason not to believe me.

"You killed them."

"They were going to do the same to me," I say. What they did was worse. They gave me back my brother and I had to run away from him again. _One day_, I swear to myself and to Jack, _one day I'll come back to stay. I promise_. Now it's the only thing I can do to keep him safe. Pitch has promised not to hurt him but he's unreasonable where I'm concerned. I don't know what he'd do if he knew the truth so I have to make sure he never finds out.

"Sparks," Pitch murmurs, catching me in his arms and pulling me close. I don't fight his embrace. "You are a miracle. They would've killed you." He holds me at arms' length and I have to look up to meet his eclipse eyes. "I don't know what I would do without you."

"You'd manage," I say, looking away. "I'm good for blowing things up." And betraying people who believed in me, and hurting everyone I ever cared about. I'm good at that too. Pitch doesn't say anything, only hugs me again, until one of his nightmares materializes out of thin air. It whickers at him and Pitch finally breaks away. I'm glad; I'm not a fan of overlong hugs.

"I have to go," Pitch says. I nod. "I should be home in a few days."

"I'll be here," I say, shrugging like I have nowhere else to go. "I've got Fyra, I'll be fine." Pitch nods, kissed my forehead, and vanishes. I know that he's gone, not just lurking. I've gotten good at detecting his magic.

Now I can do a little disappearing of my own. I've been meaning to make a stop since I came home, but with Pitch's hovering, I never had the opportunity until now. I know that I shouldn't, I know that it's a bad idea, but I'm going back to Ohio.

* * *

"I know you can't hear me," I say, settling myself cross-legged on the bed. Even if I was visible or audible, I doubt that he would be able to hear me anyway. Jamie's headphones are as big as pillows and stuck over his ears. "But I wish you could. You always believed, Jamie. I need you to believe now." Not for me, not for Pitch. I need him to believe in Jack and his resistance. God knows that he needs the help, and a little belief could go a long way. Part of me feels like I'm betraying Pitch, but the other wants nothing more than to see Jack triumph. He's been through too much, he's _lost_ too much, including me.

But this Jamie doesn't believe anymore. The diamond at my throat pulses lightly, seeking to be returned to its home, but that's too dangerous. If I give Jamie back his memories, Pitch will kill him, and I can't let that happen.

"I wish you could've seen them," I say quietly. "The Guardians and Jack, I mean. He was one of them. He fit in. He was _good_. You would've loved him. You were his favorite, I think. He hoped that you would be the one to see him for the first time." I swallow hard. Jack had never said anything about being seen, but I knew that all he wanted was to be believed in. It wasn't something that I had ever shared, but I knew where he was coming from. I don't know what belief would do to me; I'm afraid of what it would do to me. I have too much power already.

I know he can't hear me, but I keep talking to Jamie. I tell him everything. He doesn't seem to mind.

There's a pit in my stomach, an unshakable feeling of dread and unease, and talking with Jamie helps me forget about it for a little while. But even so I can't help but think that something terrible is happening.

"There's something wrong," I say to Jamie. His head bobs along to his music. "I don't know what it is, but something is very, very wrong."

"Jamie?" Sophie pokes her head into the bedroom, her blonde hair falling into her eyes. "Jesus, Jamie, turn the heat down in here." I blink at her. She can feel the heat? That's the closest anyone has come to noticing me in a long time.

"What do you want?" Jamie snarls, pulling his headphones down over his neck.

"Mom wants you." Sophie says curtly before turning and leaving. Clearly their issues haven't been settled since I was here last.

"Do you know what's wrong, Sophie?" I ask, ghosting through the door and floating a few feet above the ground. She doesn't answer. "You've seen everything." She was too little for her memories to hurt Pitch, so I left them intact. Her belief in fairytales wasn't as out of the ordinary as Jamie's was, she would grow out of it in time. "You've been to the Warren." I don't know why I came back here. Suddenly, I want to kick myself for my foolishness. These aren't children anymore. Jamie and Sophie Bennet are teenagers, and they don't believe in Jack Frost or the Guardians. They never believed in me. What is drawing me to them, what is causing me to seek solace from these two?

Sophie flops onto her bed and plays with her phone, pressing the little buttons when it vibrates. Apparently, that's how humans communicate nowadays. I think they're losing the ability to speak. Suddenly the phone drops from her hand and she turns towards me. She _looks_ at me, and I can see the focus and clarity drain from her eyes. Suddenly, the girl in front of me is not Sophie Bennet, but something…other. The feeling of dread roars to the forefront of my mind, demanding attention as I look into Sophie's dead eyes. This is wrong, this is _wrong_.

"He's hurting," she says in a voice that isn't hers. "He needs you."

* * *

**Ah, but who needs her? Jack or Pitch? Leave your guesses in the reviews, as well as telling me what you thin.**

**Cheers,**

**~Fae**


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